


When a Soul Breaks

by Jayel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bisexual Harry Potter, Endgame Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, F/M, Ginny Weasley Dies, Harry is a mess, Harry is trying, Horcrux Creation, Implied Mpreg (Future), Implied/Referenced Death in Childbirth, Lots of tears, M/M, Major Character Death (not Harry or Draco), Murder, Negative thoughts towards a child, No Ginny Bashing, No harm comes to that child, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:01:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24227035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jayel/pseuds/Jayel
Summary: A small foot tapped the side of his palm, and lightly jostled the remains of the ring. Harry slowly turned horrified eyes to the baby still in his arms. His eyesight blurred as the full horror of what he’d done dawned on him.“She didn’t mean to,” Mrs. Weasley said with another quiver in her voice. Harry barely heard her explanation of how sometimes a witch’s power lashed out during a particularly painful and problematic delivery. Mrs. Weasley went on to say Ginny would have never intentionally destroyed the ring, but Harry wasn’t mad. He didn’t blame Ginny for destroying his horcrux. She hadn’t; not really. Harry recalled the sense of rightness he’d felt when he was first given the child. Ginny didn’t destroy his horcrux, because the baby was its new vessel.--Or that time Harry made a just-in-case horcrux, gave it to Ginny, brown chicken brown cow, died, came back, woke up from a coma, and was given a baby and a broken horcurx. Harry is left wondering if he's raising his own horcrux.Note: The story starts with Harry/Ginny, but she dies. End game is Harry/Draco.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 4
Kudos: 85





	When a Soul Breaks

Harry came to slowly, only jarring fully awake when he opened his eyes and registered he was in a hospital room. What felt like just minutes ago, he’d left Albus Dumbledore at the train station, determined to go back and help his friends. He had expected – well, he wasn’t sure what he expected, but it wasn’t this.

He panicked, wondering what happened to Voldemort and his friends. He hoped his own relative safety in a hospital meant that they were okay.

It didn’t take long for a medi-witch to come and fuss over him. She said his vitals looked good, but that wasn’t what caught his attention.

“We’ve been waiting for you to wake for months,” she said, with an excitement that contrasted sharply with how Harry felt at the words.

“Months? What happened?” he asked.

She gave him a recap of the final battle. It turned out that Neville was the hero in the end, killing Nagini and then Voldemort at Ron and Hermione’s insistence. When they recovered Harry’s body, they were pleasantly surprised to learn he hadn’t died. Unfortunately, no one could figure out what was wrong with him. The medi-witch briefly tumbled into an explanation of the various tests and spells they tried. While it worried Harry, his immediate concern was finding out what happened to his friends.

The medi-witch was able to confirm that Ron, Hermione and Neville had all survived the battle. Given Neville’s heroism, and Ron and Hermione’s closeness to both Harry and Neville, their actions were celebrated and reported on for months following the battle. The medi-witch was less informed about everyone else and promised to look for an old newspaper that listed all the deaths.

“You’re in good health,” the medi-witch declared, kind despite Harry’s near interrogation. “However, we want to keep you here for observation. We’re not sure why you were in a coma to begin with. Several eyewitnesses said you’d been hit with the killing curse. You’re now the Boy Who Lived Twice,” she said. She’d tried to say the last part with humour, but Harry just cringed at his new moniker.

“Since no one else has survived the killing curse, we have nothing to compare your symptoms to,” she said. Harry couldn’t explain it any more than she could. He didn’t mention seeing Dumbledore and the train station in what he assumed was the in-between. He certainly couldn’t mention that he’d made the choice to come back. He had several theories on why he was able to survive the killing curse, and none were something he planned to share with a stranger. He’d let her and everyone else assume it was the same thing that had miraculously saved him the first time, though Harry knew it couldn’t be. He hadn’t fallen into a coma when this happened to him as a baby.

“We will contact your family to let them know the good news,” the medi-witch said.

“Er, do you mean the Weasleys?” Harry asked. He hoped she wasn’t planning on contacting the Dursleys.

“Of course! They were all...” She paused and a strange sad expression crossed her face. It made Harry uneasy.

“Oh dear. Of course, you don’t know. You couldn’t know. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, especially so soon after you’ve woken up... I’m afraid Ginevra Weasley died a few months ago during a difficult delivery. It was a tough pregnancy overall,” she told him as gently as she could.

“Pregnancy?” Harry asked faintly. It didn’t make any sense. How could Ginny be pregnant? How could Ginny be _dead_?

“You didn’t know?” she asked with surprise. The woman looked equal parts awkward but pleased to tell him, “well, congratulations Mr. Potter. You have a son.”

“Son?” he parroted faintly. He felt like he was dreaming. Just moments ago he’d been walking to his death. How was it possible to go from that to waking up in St-Mungo’s with the news he was a father. It was crazy; impossible... except, Harry recalled the last time he had seen Ginny. It wasn’t _impossible_ they’d created a child.

“He’s healthy. As I said, it was a difficult birth, but he’s a fighter... just like his dad,” the woman said kindly. She continued to say more, but Harry stopped actively listening as he cast his mind back to when he’d last seen Ginny, and the terrible reason he’d asked to meet her. It was something he hadn’t told anyone else. He couldn’t, because it was the source of his greatest shame.

After months of looking for Voldemort’s horcruxes, with no idea where they were, _what_ they were in some cases, and having no idea how to destroy them, Harry was desperate. Ron was desperate. Hermione was desperate, though she tried to hide that as much as she could from Harry.

When Ron left, and their sense of desperation and despair increased, one insidious thought kept creeping in. If Harry was the only one that could kill Voldemort, he had to make sure he didn’t die... at least not permanently. And Harry knew of a way to make sure of it. He knew he could provide his friends with a way to bring him back if they needed to.

The first time the idea had come to him, Harry had immediately rejected it. However, he kept circling back to it no matter how much he hated it. He knew it was a bad idea. Aside from having to kill someone to create a horcrux, there was a plethora of additional side-effects. Voldemort was definitely unhinged. Perhaps that wouldn’t happen if Harry only created one, but he didn’t delude himself. There was no way he’d be completely spared since he’d be damaging his _soul_.

Still... Harry also knew it would be effective. He and Hermione were on a wild goose chase to find all of Voldemort’s horcruxes. If by some miracle they managed that, they still had to figure out how to destroy them.

Perhaps, if he’d never found his mother’s ring, and if he’d never had to run from some snatchers, the idea of creating his own horcrux would have remained just that. An idea. A crazy, desperate thought that rattled around his brain. Never spoken aloud. Never followed through.

Alas, that wasn’t the route Harry took.

In the rubble that used to be his house, Harry chanced upon a ring. It was a dainty thing but had a fairly large ruby in the center. Hermione, ever cautious, had run a number of diagnostic spells to determine if it was safe, before she allowed Harry to pick it up. Finding no magical spells, dark or otherwise, she didn’t protest when Harry pocketed the ring.

Later, once they had escaped Nagini and Voldemort, they’d both taken a closer look. The band was made of pure gold, and the ruby was a genuine stone. They had no way of knowing if was Lily’s ring, but they both thought it unlikely someone would have purposely left an expensive ring in the rubble of Harry’s home. Harry knew it could have been dropped by any number of people that had checked out the scene of his parents’ murder. Still, he liked thinking it had been his mother’s and got lost until Harry luckily found it. The fact the center was a ruby - Harry’s birthstone – supported his theory. Hermione even suggested it might have been a gift given to her after Harry was born. Part of him felt he’d built a whimsical fantasy; that in desperate times, he was grasping at any means of connection and comfort. Still, he treated it as if it was his mother’s ring.

It was a bittersweet find, but Harry was glad to have it. He kept it safe, but in light of the horcrux hunt, it ultimately slipped his mind. At least until they’d been attacked.

Several snatchers happened upon them on one of their rare ventures back to civilization. Later Harry would learn he’d led the snatchers to them by saying Voldemort’s name, but they assumed it was merely bad luck when it happened. They’d been unprepared, and were forced to split up to make it harder for the snatchers. Harry managed to shake all but one. He’d apparated away once he was clear of the muggle population, but the snatcher had grabbed him at the last second. Harry pushed the man away when they landed in the forest. He readied himself to run again but stopped at the sight of blood. Lots of blood. The man had splinched himself so badly, he had difficulty breathing. He couldn’t raise his wand to heal himself, let alone stop Harry from kicking it out of reach.

There was a moment, however brief, where the man desperately looked at Harry and silently begged for help. Harry considered giving it. He really did. But that insidious thought was still rattling around his brain. Harry watched as the man slowly died in front of him, and he knew exactly what he had to do to create a horcrux. Dumbledore had never told him. Hermione had never discovered it in her research. But Harry _knew_. The knowledge subconsciously and unintentionally passed from Voldemort to Harry through their connection. Harry knew the exact steps he had to take. It was why the idea had stuck around. He knew it would work.

So, Harry did the unspeakable.

It hurt. It was the worst pain he’d ever experienced. The pain he felt in proximity to Voldemort was the only thing that remotely came close, but this was so much worse. Harry almost threw up several times, but forced his body to go through the motions. He used muscle memory that wasn’t even his, but somehow it worked to guide him through the ritual.

He doesn’t remember consciously choosing his mother’s ring as the vessel for his soul, but when it’s over the ring was what rested in the palm of his bloody hand. He immediately regretted sullying anything of his mother’s, but later reflected that he’d rather use something of sentimental value than a random rock he’d grabbed.

Harry burnt what remained of the body, and then his clothes. When Hermione joined him back at the spot of their last campground, he didn’t tell her what he did. If she thought he looked horrible, she had so many other reasons to choose from to explain why. She herself did not look good after that close call either.

As the days went by, Harry had to wonder if Dumbledore had been wrong about the side effects. Harry didn’t feel different. Not really. He still cared about Hermione and felt guilty for how he contributed to her problems. He was still hurt and angry that Ron left, but prayed he was okay wherever he ended up. He was disgusted with himself for everything he did to create a horcrux. Unlike Voldemort, he had no desire to create another one. Harry would have worried that it didn’t work, except he’d felt the pain of cutting out a piece of his soul and placing it outside of his body. Every time he looked at his mother’s ring, he just _knew_ it worked.

It eventually dawned on him that he felt normal because he was holding on to the ring. While separated, the two pieces still felt right by maintaining their proximity. Despite his worries he’d grow unstable, Harry knew he couldn’t hold on to the ring forever. The whole point of creating it was to have a backup. It would be stupid and a waste if he died with it on him, completely unprotected.

Harry did not know enough about curses to follow Voldemort in how he went about protecting his horcruxes. There would be no point in trying to secretly pull that information from Voldemort like he had with how to make a horcrux. The man would know how to circumvent any security Harry put in place. He knew he could ask Hermione for help, or ask her to wear it, but frankly he didn’t want to. He couldn’t bring himself to explain what he’d done. He couldn’t lose her like he’d lost Ron. He didn’t want to see fear or disgust on her face every time she’d be forced to interact with him. Besides, he figured she’d be a terrible choice to carry his horcrux since she was always with him. He didn’t like thinking about it, but there was a good chance she’d be captured or killed with him.

If it couldn’t be Hermione, and he had no idea where Ron was, the person he’d trust the most to keep the ring safe was Ginny. It would be risky since she was at school with Death Eaters, but he knew she’d do her best to protect it. Besides, she was one of the few people who had experience with horcruxes and would know how serious and dangerous the ring could be. Certainly, she’d take precautions.

It was harder than he imagined convincing Hermione to allow him to meet Ginny. She knew the risk, and thought Harry was stupid for even considering it. She also understood the desire behind it. Not the horcrux part, but the desire to be with the people you loved. Ultimately, she conceded and helped him arrange their meeting.

They met in the forbidden forest; risky even without factoring the Death Eaters at the school. Harry tried to make the area as pleasant as possible; he set out a blanket, cast heating charms, and most importantly, properly bathed despite being on the run.

Harry tried to ease into the topic; more for his sake than hers. But Ginny had always been able to see through his bullshit. “Harry, I love that I get to see you. I really do. But you’re not here for a snog in the woods...” she prompted.

“Right... er, I do have something to tell you. I – I, shit, I don’t know how to do this,” Harry admitted.

“Take your time,” Ginny offered. She looked worried, but Harry knew it was for his sake. For a moment he considered not telling her. Keeping the ring on himself until he figured out a new plan. But he knew he didn’t have a better option, and she was a big part of the reason why he created a horcrux in the first place. He needed to make sure he gave everyone a fighting chance if he failed his first time.

He held up the ring. “It was my mum’s... at least I think so. Hermione and I went to Godric’s Hallow. It was stupid since we were almost caught, but I found this, so I’m not really sorry I went...” he couldn’t just jump into saying he’d made a horcrux. He wasn’t sure he could say it at all.

“It’s beautiful,” Ginny observed.

“Right...” Harry said and fell silent. Ginny placed her hand on his arm, not rushing him, but reminding him she was there for him.

“It wasn’t the only time we were almost caught... I keep thinking... I know our chances aren’t good. I know I could die,” Harry said. Ginny inhaled sharply, but Harry continued before she said anything in response to that. “I don’t plan to make it easy for them, but I know I could die. I just need... I need to take him with me, you know? I need to make sure that everyone else is okay first.”

“Harry, you can’t think like that. Please don’t think like that,” Ginny said.

“I don’t want to die, Gin. I really don’t,” he reassured her. He briefly caught her eye and was touched at the love and concern that was there. Not that he deserved it after what he’d done, but Harry was greedy and needy enough to accept it. “But he’s killed so many already. He won’t stop until I’m dead too. I’ve accepted the very real possibility I could die... so I... I...” Harry floundered and looked at the ring helplessly.

“Harry. Harry, you listen to me,” Ginny said and turned his face back towards her, “you’re coming back to me. You’re going to stop him, and then you’re coming back to me. I can let you go – run off to do whatever it is you’re doing, but that’s because I know you’re _coming back_ to me,” Ginny stressed. She looked as if she thought Harry was able to confront the dark lord that very night.

“That’s why I’m here,” he held up the ring again. “I was hoping you could hold on it... I... If I survive – _when_ I survive, I’ll come back for it... but if I don’t... if I don’t, you can still...” and Harry found he couldn’t say it.

“You’re coming back,” Ginny said forcefully.

“Right... but just in case,” Harry said.

“You’re coming back,” Ginny insisted.

“Right,” Harry smiled for the first time since he started the conversation. “... will you wear it? Keep it safe?” he asked nervously.

“Yes,” Ginny said and held up her hand. Harry placed it on her finger, not paying attention to which one. He did pay attention to the sharp gasp she made once it was on her hand. Harry worried she felt the horcrux and he needed to reassure her his ring wasn’t like the diary. There was no part of his soul that would ever want to hurt her.

“Gin, I – fuck, I love you. I know it isn’t right or fair of me to give you the ring when I... I... I’m sorry. I’m painting a target on your back. I just – there’s no one I trust more, and I need you... You have to know-” Harry stumbled as he tried to explain his regret at asking her to hold his horcrux.

“I know, Harry,” she said as she placed a hand on his mouth to stop his awkward explanation. “I love you too. I don’t want you to worry about me. The Death Eaters at the school will hardly notice one girl’s ring, but I’ll be careful with it anyway. Even if they see it, I wouldn’t tell them its significance,” she reassured him.

“You don’t have to keep the ring,” he offered because he trusted that she’d protect it, but he had no right to ask it of her.

“I’m keeping it,” she stated firmly, “and you’re coming back to me.”

“I’m coming back,” he repeated. One way or another, he was coming back to her. That was the whole point of the horcrux.

She grinned and kissed him. Harry relaxed and marveled at how lucky he was. Ginny was amazing; far too good for him, but somehow loved him all the same.

They’d made love twice that night. The first time was hurried and perhaps a touch desperate. It was still the best he’d felt in months, and he relished the chance to just hold her. When their gentle caresses turned sensual, they made love a second time. Harry had tried to convey his love and admiration in every touch. They stayed together, just holding on to each other, until it became unsafe to remain.

It had been hard to let her go. He’d felt cold and miserable but didn’t know if that was a side effect of being separated from his horcrux, or just the bleak reality of the war.

Somehow, they made progress in finding the horcruxes and ways to destroy them. When he learned Dumbledore always meant to sacrifice him, Harry had been hurt and betrayed, but not as scared as he thought he’d be. He didn’t know if he would have still walked to his death had he not made a horcrux, but it didn’t matter. Ginny had the means to bring him back, so he stood still and let Voldemort destroy his own horcrux.

Seeing a piece of Voldemort’s mangled soul in the in-between had pained Harry in so many ways. He’d felt pity for the tiny creature, and worried his soul now looked the same. When he looked down at himself, he’d seen what he’d always seen. But there was a sadness in the way Dumbledore had looked at him that made him think he might have appeared different to the other man.

Harry was given the choice to go back, or to wait at the station until the rest of his soul joined him. Harry didn’t hesitate at the opportunity to go back. Afterall he had a job to finish, and then he needed to figure out how to undo his own horcrux. Seeing Voldemort’s horcrux was enough to convince him to try to fix his own mangled soul. Even if it wasn’t possible, he needed to make sure his soul was untethered, so he didn’t have to wait at the train station indefinitely the next time he died.

Except something went wrong. It had taken him months to wake up, and in the meantime, Neville had been burdened with the responsibility of vanquishing Voldemort. And Ginny, his beautiful Ginny had died in childbirth. It didn’t feel real, and Harry held on to the hope that the medi-witch had been mistaken up until the point the Weasleys arrived at the hospital.

Having Hermione and Ron at his side felt right, but watching the rest of the gathered Weasleys, Harry couldn’t help but think it was wrong. Fred and Ginny were missing, and it left two large and obvious holes. Mrs. Weasley was holding a tiny baby with black hair instead of red.

“Harry, I’d like you to meet your son, James Prewett Potter,” Mrs. Weasley said as she placed the baby in his arms. Harry thought he was small, even though he was already a few months old.

“James?” Harry questioned with a wobble in his voice. There was no question the child was his. Not with his father’s messy black hair, and his mother’s green eyes.

“Ginny – she tried to pick a name you’d like. James after your father, and Prewett, well that’s my maiden name,” Mrs. Weasley explained though she looked worried Harry would object.

“It’s perfect,” he reassured her. Honestly, Ginny could have named their child Voldemort and Harry wouldn’t protest considering.

Harry watched his son with a bit of wonder. Hermione assured him that James was healthy, and the others all took turns filling him in on what he’d missed. George tried to claim he was James’ favourite uncle, but Ron had protested claiming he’d always be the favourite because he was also his godfather.

“You don’t mind, do you?” Ron said nervously. “Gin thought you’d want that. I mean for Hermione and I to both be his godparents...”

“It’s perfect,” Harry said again, because it was exactly what Harry would have requested if he’d been awake at the time. Despite his reassurance to Ron, Harry was a little hesitant. It was the second time they told him Ginny had chosen something because she thought Harry would have wanted it. He hoped she’d wanted those things too.

A sniffling sound had him turning to look at his side, and was heartbroken at seeing Mrs. Weasley dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. His own eyes filled with tears in response. “I’m sorry,” he croaked. It was aimed at Mrs. Weasley, but he owed it to every Weasley gathered in the room.

“Oh, no, Harry dear. It’s... these things sometimes happen,” Mrs. Weasley managed to say, though a few more tears fell. Mr. Weasley moved up beside her to offer a comforting embrace, though Harry noted the man’s eyes were also brimming with tears.

“Still, it’s... it’s my fault,” Harry admitted. He was the one that got her pregnant. “I should have been there.”

“Oh Harry, you couldn’t have helped that. We know... we know you would have done right by her if you’d been awake,” Mrs. Weasley said. Harry nodded, because he would have asked Ginny to marry him, and would have been so grateful if she’d decided she wanted Harry after all.

“She... she told us...” Mrs. Weasley said haltingly. He thought her difficulty in speaking was because of her grief, but when Harry glanced back at her he saw worry instead.

“Ginny told us what happened the last time she saw you,” Mr. Weasley spoke up when he noticed his wife struggling. Harry blanched then reddened. He might have been holding the product that resulted from that night, but that didn’t mean he expected Ginny’s father to bring it up.

“Er...” Harry hesitated, not sure how to respond. He couldn’t look Mr. and Mrs. Weasley in the eye, so he helplessly looked down and watched James.

George snorted unexpectedly. “She didn’t give us details about _that_ ,” he said with mirth.

“Oh! Oh no, dear,” Mrs. Weasley confirmed. There was an awkward pause as all of the Weasleys tried not to think too much about how baby James had been created.

“She told us you gave her your mother’s ring, and promised to make it back to her,” Mrs. Weasley said softly. Harry looked at her with worry but noted neither she nor her husband were looking at Harry with anger or disgust. Ginny must not have told them what the ring was. In fact, it almost sounded like Ginny had led them to believe it had been – well, perhaps not an engagement ring, but some sort of promise ring. In a way it had been, but not how Mrs. Weasley assumed.

“Do you... do you have it?... the ring?” Harry asked. He felt guilty for asking for it, especially when Mrs. Weasley’s face crumpled a bit at his question.

Mrs. Weasley grasped the chain of the necklace she was wearing and tugged the pendant out from under her shirt, where it had been resting. She undid the clasp of the necklace and removed what Harry thought was a pendant and placed it in his hand. As Harry’s eyes focused on it, he inhaled sharply, and a heavy weight settled in the pit of his stomach.

His mother’s ring was a mangled mess. The band was broken and twisted twice over. He didn’t know how Mrs. Weasley had managed to get it to stay on a chain, but magic must have been involved. It no longer remotely resembled a ring, but Harry knew it for what it was. Even the lack of ruby in the center piece did not throw Harry off. He knew this mangled twisted piece of metal had once been his mother’s ring. His horcrux. However, Harry could tell it was neither anymore. It was no more a horcrux than it was a ring. His soul was gone. Harry shuddered to think it was trapped under the bench with Voldemort’s in the in-between.

A small foot tapped the side of his palm, and lightly jostled the remains of the ring. Harry slowly turned horrified eyes to the baby still in his arms. His eyesight blurred as the full horror of what he’d done dawned on him.

“She didn’t mean to,” Mrs. Weasley said with another quiver in her voice. Harry barely heard her explanation of how sometimes a witch’s power lashed out during a particularly painful and problematic delivery. Mrs. Weasley went on to say Ginny would have never intentionally destroyed the ring, but Harry wasn’t mad. He didn’t blame Ginny for destroying his horcrux. She _hadn’t;_ not really. Harry recalled the sense of rightness he’d felt when he was first given the child. Ginny didn’t destroy his horcrux, because the baby was its new vessel.

Harry didn’t protest as Hermione gently lifted the baby out of his arms. He was shaking too much to hold him anyway. But he did watch him, and took in all the features he’d gotten from Harry... It’s wasn’t his dad’s hair and his mum’s eyes. It was all _Harry_.

“I’m _sorry_ ,” Harry said before painful sobs wracked his body. He let Mrs. Weasley gather him in her arms, and felt worse because she should hate him, but Harry let her comfort him instead. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry...”

“Shhh, dear,” Mrs. Weasley said and ran a soothing hand up and down his back. “It’s not your fault.”

“It is,” Harry said miserably, but couldn’t elaborate. “You should hate me.”

“Never,” Mrs. Weasley promised. Harry just sobbed harder.

“It’s unfair,” Mrs. Weasley said when Harry quieted down enough to hear her. “It’s unfair, and I hate it, but it’s not your fault.”

“But I’m the one...” Harry couldn’t say it.

“No,” Mrs. Weasley said firmly. “It’s no one’s fault... maybe the Death Eaters that cursed her while in that school, or maybe just the stress of the war... perhaps this would have happened even if she’d gotten pregnant years from now. We don’t know. But I do know it isn’t your fault. No more than it is Ginny’s.”

Harry couldn’t say anything. Mrs. Weasley didn’t know. It _was_ his fault.

By the time Harry has calmed down enough to be aware of his surroundings, he noticed that the rest of the Weasleys and Hermione had left to give them privacy. Harry was grateful that they’d taken the baby with them, though he immediately felt guilty for thinking it.

Before she left, Mrs. Weasley promised to come back every day until he was cleared to leave the hospital. She made him promise to stay with them until he was ready to be on his own.

Living with the Weasleys was difficult in a way it never had been when he was a child. There were reminders of Ginny everywhere, and every kindness the family showed him just piled on the guilt.

Mrs. Weasley was patient with him as she taught him how to properly care for a baby. He was uncomfortable holding the child, but he did it because it was not fair to ask the Weasleys to do it. Still, his reluctance must have shown because each of the Weasleys gave him concerned looks at one point or another. Only Hermione had been willing to call him out on it. He still couldn’t explain the horcrux, so he settled for revealing a different truth; one that would have made him nervous had James actually been his son instead of a horcrux.

“I don’t know how to do this. The Dursleys only showed me how to fuck up a child. I have no clue how to raise a well-adjusted one,” Harry said. Dudley might have grown up knowing he was loved, but he was far from a healthy and functioning member of society.

“That’s why you have us,” Hermione reassured him.

She must have said something to the Weasleys because even Percy gave him an awkward speech about always being there for Harry and James. He appreciated it, he really did, but it also made him feel worse.

No matter what they said, it was an unintentional stab to the heart.

“He’s looks so much like you,” Hermione observed one day when she caught him staring intently at James. The baby acted exactly like a baby his age should act. There was no advanced awareness to indicate he had all of Harry’s memories. So, Harry had looked him over, trying to find some hint of Ginny that might indicate all of Harry’s fears were for nothing... aside from the faintest smattering of freckles, that Harry wasn’t even sure weren’t his imagination, the baby remained a replica of Harry.

“I know,” Harry said. There must have been something in his voice that revealed his own self-hatred, because both Ron and Hermione tensed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mr. and Mrs. Weasley pause and watch them. He let out a breath and tried to explain as levelly as he could.

“I keep looking for some sign of Ginny. Anything to say he’s her son, but all I see is _me_ ,” Harry said. He held back the ‘and I hate it’, but he thought the others heard it regardless.

They were quiet as they all observed the baby. None of them could point to any physical sign of Ginny, and it did make them sad.

“It’s in his laugh,” Mr. Weasley said. “When he laughs... I see Ginny then.”

After that Harry strove to make James laugh frequently as he tried to see what Mr. Weasley saw. But he couldn’t. Harry concluded that, like with the faint freckles he thought he saw, Mr. Weasley was only seeing what he wanted to see.

Eventually he couldn’t take the constant guilt, and nervously told the Weasleys it was time he and James moved out. He wouldn’t take away what they saw as their last piece of Ginny, so he assured them they could visit whenever they wanted. He also told Mrs. Weasley that she could babysit him whenever. In fact, he’d probably ask her to do so frequently. It was the least he could do for the good of the whole family. Especially James.

Harry had no delusions about his own fatherly skills. He tried. The last thing he wanted was to be anything close to the Dursleys, so he vowed to give James a better childhood than he had. Still, he couldn’t look at James without being reminded of what he’d done. Consequently, he couldn’t provide the easy affection that the rest of the family gave. He let them pick up his slack and prayed it was enough for James.

Harry’s state of mind did not improve until he started seeing people other than Ron, Hermione, and the rest of the Weasleys. Seeing Neville helped, though there was a certain amount of guilt there too. It seemed Neville felt the same way.

“I’m sorry,” Neville blurted in the middle of the afternoon tea Harry had served him.

“What for?” Harry asked, genuinely unsure.

“I don’t think I appreciated how hard it was for you. The media alone...” Neville trailed off. Harry could sympathize. Being the one who vanquished Voldemort, Neville suddenly gained a lot of attention, from both the media and admirers. For someone as shy as Neville, it was a lot of change, most of which was very much unwanted.

“I’m the one who should apologize to you,” Harry admitted.

“What for?” Neville parroted Harry from moments before.

“I shouldn’t have left that to you. You shouldn’t have had to kill anyone, even if it was _him_ ,” Harry said. Harry had no idea if the taboo was still in place, but thought he’d be cautious while Neville was visiting.

“It wasn’t fair for any of us to expect it from you either,” Neville admitted. Harry appreciated the sentiment. It was something he had raged against when he learnt of the prophesy, but he had mostly come to accept it. He wouldn’t have made the horcrux if he hadn’t. It had not been fair for the wizarding world to place such a task on the shoulders of a child, but Harry had long ago learned and accepted that the world was unfair. Still, he wanted something better for Neville. The other man was too kind-hearted to be burdened with the responsibility of someone’s death.

Neville’s visits were the only ones he never felt any sort of trepidation with. He loved Ron and Hermione, he did, but they were clearly waiting for Harry to open up about his feelings (Hermione), or reminisce about Ginny’s past antics (Ron). Both were things he wasn’t ready for, and Neville was the only one who didn’t push it or look at him expectantly. Early on, Neville had offered to tell him about the time he’d missed, having spent lot of time supporting Ginny during her pregnancy, but when Harry had shamefully admitted he wasn’t ready to hear it – that he may never be ready to hear it – Neville never brought it up again; the only one seemingly content to let it be.

The only other person who offered the same support was Andromeda. Harry had not been sure if he should go the first time Andromeda had asked him to visit with James. He didn’t really know the woman, and James and Teddy were still too young to have a play date. In the end, he went because Teddy was his godson and Harry had promised Remus he’d take the role seriously.

It was bittersweet the first time he saw Teddy and James next to each other. Under different circumstances he would have been thrilled to see two of the marauders’ descendants growing side-by-side. It wasn’t the same knowing one of those children was really a horcrux reincarnated.

If Andromeda noticed that Harry had an easier time with Teddy, she was tactful not to mention it outright. She made sure both boys got plenty of attention while in her house. She waited awhile before broaching the subject of survivor’s guilt, but only did so to offer her own shoulder to cry on should Harry need it. At first Harry had no intention of taking her up on her offer, but eventually he found himself sharing small bits of truth. Nowhere close to the whole horrible story, but enough that he lost some of the tension he’d carried since he woke up.

“It’s my fault she died,” Harry said apropos of nothing, several weeks into their newfound friendship. He had no intention of telling her about the horcrux, but it was the most honest and upfront he’d been about Ginny since his initial reaction to the news of her death. He could sense she was about to offer some platitudes, so he cut her off before she could. If she repeated what the Weasleys had been telling him, he’d lose his nerve. “I know everyone says it’s not, but it feels like my fault. I’ll never get rid of that feeling.”

Andromeda reached out and clasped his hand. She watched him watch his teacup while she considered how to respond.

“I bear the guilt of Nymphadora’s death too. I told her to stay home, that she had a child and shouldn’t be involved in the fighting. But she said she needed to make sure the world was a better place for him, and I didn’t stop her. I should have, but I let her leave and have regretted it ever since,” Andromeda admitted.

“Would you think me a hypocrite and get angry if I say it isn’t your fault?” Harry asked. As far as Harry was concerned, the only one who bore the blame for Tonks and Remus was Bellatrix, the one who killed them.

“Oh, I already feel so angry. All the time,” Andromeda confessed. “The fact that it was Bellatrix. That’s she’s gone too, and I won’t ever get my revenge... or an explanation as to why my _sister_ could hurt me so. I know we were estranged, but I spent years _missing_ her; wishing to have both my sisters back in my life. How foolish that seems now. The fancy of a lonely child...”

“It’s not foolish. I think it’s quite normal, actually,” Harry responded. He recalled how sad Sirius looked when he spoke about his brother. Even Harry understood it on a personal level. He didn’t like the Dursleys any more than they liked him. Still, he’d spent his pre-Hogwarts years trying to be better so that they’d love him. Even now, there’s some small part of him that wondered what would happen if he brought James to visit them. It’d be a disaster, but part of Harry hoped Dudley had grown up enough to treat James better than he’d ever treated Harry. He won’t risk it, but every so often Harry wondered what it would be like to invite the Dursleys back into his life. 

“Sometimes, when the house gets quiet, and it’s so quiet now, I can’t help but think how much better life would be for little Edward to have family, just more people to care...” Andromeda trailed off with a sigh. Harry squeezed the hand that was still clasped with his. “It’s too late anyway. Even if I wanted to reconnect with what little remains of my family, it’s too late.”

“It’s not though, is it? I mean the Malfoys...” Harry said, but trailed off at her confused look. “Oh, did they die in the battle too? I hadn’t heard. The last I saw of Malfoy, er, Draco, he was alive, but...”

“They’re not dead,” Andromeda told him, “they’re in Azkaban.”

“What?” Harry asked, genuinely shocked. “What for?”

“Being a Death Eater is now considered a crime,” Andromeda said with a bemused tone.

“Er, right, but...” Harry frowned. It didn’t seem right.

“I don’t know how to feel either. There’s a part of me that’s hurt and angry and feels like Azkaban is exactly what they all deserve... but Narcissa is still my sister. The thought of her living in a constant nightmare brings me no joy or sense of justice. And her son, he’s even younger than my Nymphadora was. I can’t imagine what that place will do to them,” Andromeda said sadly.

Harry was surprised by how upset he was to learn about the Malfoys’ imprisonment. It was partially because he knew Andromeda was correct and Azkaban was extremely detrimental to one's health. But he was more upset that none of his friends had spoken on their behalf. Logically, he knew they might have questioned Draco's supposed reluctance to be involved. He might have taken the dark mark, but Harry felt Draco had done what he could to prevent harm from befalling Harry on multiple occasions. As he considered it, Harry began to feel it was necessary to do the same for Draco. He was less sure about the fate of Lucius and Narcissa, but the more Andromeda spoke of her sister, the more Harry thought he should extend his benevolence to Narcissa. He could only hope he wasn't too late to prevent them from the worst of Azkaban’s harm.

Andromeda was surprised, but willing to support him. Harry thought she was reluctantly hopeful about reconnecting with her family. As she watched Harry pushed through the first few hurdles, she told him she was grateful he didn't immediately give up when encountering resistance. Harry would be the first to admit he hadn't expected as much trouble as he got. Part of him thought his relationship with Kingsley would make the progress easy. Unfortunately, the minister wasn't eager to appear soft against Death Eaters so soon after the war.

Despite his lack of progress with Kingsley, he still made enough waves to get noticed by the ministry workers and start a wave of gossip that eventually landed on some journalists’ desks. And despite his general distrust of reporters, Harry agreed to an interview where he explained he hadn't been able to provide testimony on behalf of Draco and Narcissa due to his coma. Now that he recovered, he wanted to rectify it.

The papers were split. As Kingsley anticipated, a good portion of the public was not keen on pardoning any Death Eater. However, Harry was still the Boy who Lived (Twice) which garnered support or at least a willingness to listen. He might not have been the one to kill Voldemort in the end, but it was common knowledge that Harry, Ron and Hermione had spent the war weakening Voldemort.

Harry's efforts had been enough for the Malfoys’ lawyer to contact him. After listening to what Harry had to say in their defence, the man felt he had enough to try appealing Narcissa and Draco's convictions. Kingsley had tried to dissuade Harry once he'd heard, but dropped it after Andromeda spoke to him privately. Harry didn't know what the woman said to him, but afterwards Kingsley was content to let it play out in court without actively trying to sabotage their efforts.

Ron and Hermione took a similar stance. They were confused when Harry started defending the Malfoys, and neither were keen to aid Harry’s efforts. Fortunately, they didn’t try to dismantle his progress either. Hermione had assumed he was doing it for Andromeda, even though he told him he would have done it anyway. It was the right thing to do. They didn’t exactly agree, but didn’t hinder him either.

It helped that one journalist managed to corner Neville and Luna while they were shopping in Diagon Alley. Luna had been quoted saying Draco had been kind to her during her captivity. Neville hadn't spoken about Draco specifically, but had made a general statement about healing and rising above hatred and anger. It was enough to infer he supported Harry. With Harry and Neville as a united front in the media, some of the initial negative press about the Malfoys tapered off.

Harry thought Narcissa would be the easiest to get released given she didn't have a dark mark, but Draco was first to be pardoned. Given his age and the threats to his family, Draco’s best defence was that he'd been under duress to take the mark. Many people called bullshit, but in the end Harry’s testimony worked to reduce Draco’s sentence. The time he’d already spent in Azkaban was deemed sufficient and Draco was released shortly afterwards. Harry was photographed giving back Draco’s wand in the ministry’s atrium. The media gave an overly poetic report on how this was Harry’s way to demonstrate his trust in the other young man.

Narcissa had a similar defence. Roped in by her husband and sister, she had a little leeway when it came to resisting Voldemort. The lack of carrying her own dark mark worked in her favour. Her main defence for her actions the fear for her son's life. Her trial took longer, but ultimately, she too was released.

Harry took the time to mention to Narcissa that Andromeda was interested in reconnecting. He did not say more, leaving it to the two women to decide how to move forward. For a long time, he hadn't been sure whether they did so. It was only about a month and a half later that Harry swung by Andromeda's house to drop off something for Teddy while Draco and Narcissa were visiting. He’d been invited in for a cup of tea. When nothing disastrous happened, Andromeda felt comfortable occasionally inviting Harry over at the same time as the Malfoys. She’d claimed it was because Harry was family too, but Harry suspected she wanted him to keep Draco entertained while she cautiously got to know the person her sister had become.

It was awkward at first. Draco and Harry had too much history to just pretend nothing happened. Draco was snotty and prideful just to get on Harry’s nerves, but he slipped too often and Harry saw the fragility Voldemort and Azkaban had caused in him. Over time, Harry got to know who Draco was as a person. They found they had more in common than a love of quidditch. After the first few weeks they reconnected, they mostly bonded over the sense of guilt they carried. Draco did not understand what Harry had to feel guilty of, having never been involved in the Death Eaters like Draco had. Harry vaguely implied there was more to it than Draco knew, but was reluctant to elaborate. Draco didn’t push, instead he let Harry share whatever he was comfortable sharing. Consequently, Harry eventually found it easier to confide in Draco than it was with Ron and Hermione. He wasn't sure if he would ever regain the closeness he’d had with his two best friends when he couldn't ever admit the truth.

“I feel like a shit dad,” Harry admitted one day. The boys had just been set down for a nap. Whenever this happened, Harry felt a sense of relief as he got a break from James. He always felt guilty about it, but that guilt was easier to ignore than when he had to care for his horcrux and pretend to be happy about his life.

“How so?” Draco asked and nibbled on a biscuit from the dessert plate Andromeda left out for them.

“Well... this is my favourite part of the day. When he naps,” Harry confessed.

“Everyone needs a break, Potter,” Draco said and rolled his eyes at Harry’s dramatics.

“Well yeah, but...”

“You’re not a shit dad. You’re patient with him. You make sure he’s healthy and happy. You do more than you know,” Draco reassured him. Privately, Harry thought about the reasons why he did those things. He remembered his own childhood filled with hurt and a desperate need to be loved. Thus far James had not been burdened with those memories. In many ways, the baby was innocent, even if the soul in him was not.

“I don’t do enough. I know I could be better if I wasn’t so... ashamed, I guess. I’m trying to give him the life Ginny would have wanted for him,” Harry knew Ginny would have given James a great childhood. Harry would never know if she realized the child was carrying his soul, but even if she had, Harry knew she would still want the best for him. He didn’t doubt that she’d loved him, even if Harry was clearly unworthy of that love and trust.

“And you think you’re somehow failing?” Draco asked. He sounded genuinely curious, and without any of the maliciousness he would have expected from Malfoy before the war. His words also lacked any trace of facetiousness, which was the general attitude others expressed when they thought Harry was blaming himself for Ginny’s death once again. 

“Don’t you?” Harry asked. Andromeda and Draco, and by extension Narcissa, were the ones who saw the most natural interactions between Harry and James.

Draco took a moment to think it over. “Given the circumstances, I think you’re doing well,” Draco decided.

“Circumstances?” Harry asked, because he didn’t think anyone would jump to the horcrux theory.

“You’re young. James is your first child, and you never had younger siblings to care for. You’re doing it mostly on your own, which would be stressful for anyone even before you factor in whatever misplaced guilt you feel about Ginny’s death,” Draco listed. Harry mentally reminded himself it wasn’t misplaced guilt, but didn’t interrupt Draco. He wanted to know how his and James’ relationship looked like from an outside perspective. “All his basic needs are taken care of. He’s not starved for attention or physical comfort...”

“But?” Harry prompted when he deduced there was something Draco debated mentioning.

“But... by now I can tell when you’re angry or hurt. I’ve been the cause of those feelings many times over the years. You hide it well – the hurt, I mean. You’re shit at hiding your anger... So, I’ve noticed...” Draco paused and watched Harry for a moment before he decided to finish stating his observations. “You’re either angry or hurt all the time. You do smile and relax, but it’s rare... and it’s easier for you to be happy around Teddy than it is for you to be with James.”

“See, shit dad,” Harry muttered. 

“That’s not what I said. And you accuse me of being a drama queen,” Draco rolled his eyes. “Look, Potter, we all have our demons. There is so much I regret, and plenty more people telling me I should feel bad about even more things that were out of my control. I’m not miserable, but I’m not the happy child I was before the dark lord returned. I’m not going to pretend to be either. If you’re not OK, it’s not your duty to pretend you are so other people feel better about themselves. You hide enough of it in front of the children, but no one has a right to ask you to bottle it all up. Be upset; work through your shit, and if you need help ask for it. Your friends will support you.”

Harry was silent a moment, then asked “does that include you?”

“I’m not making you a friendship bracelet... but, yeah,” Draco said, and shrugged. There was a slight rosy tint to his cheeks.

There was comfort in knowing someone could see Harry’s darker side, at least a portion of it, and not be disgusted by him. As far as Draco knew, he didn’t think it was so bad that he had to fix Harry. Everyone else seemed to be waiting for Harry to snap out of his funk, but Draco thought who Harry was at the moment was good enough.

When James’ birthday came around, Harry practically begged Draco to go with him. As much as he genuinely enjoyed Draco’s company these days, he asked for more selfish reasons. He needed the support. And frankly he hoped that the others would be put off my Malfoy’s presence enough to avoid sensitive subjects, or even just avoid their presence in general.

Mrs. Weasley took charge of planning the party. Harry didn’t know where she found the spirit to organize a birthday party on the anniversary of her daughter’s death. Harry would have avoided the whole thing if he could have justified missing his son’s birthday.

It honestly surprised no one that Harry drank too much that night. Fortunately, his plan to avoid people by hanging around Draco worked. He said some unfortunate things, but nothing he couldn't bounce back from when sober. Draco, while he did nothing to stop Harry from drinking, had helped steer the conversation towards safe topics. If Harry remembered, he would have to thank him in the morning. Unfortunately, despite Draco’s best efforts, Harry still managed to embarrass himself. At some point he had drunk enough to feel queasy and had to run out of the room before he vomited in front of everyone. Despite making it to the privacy of the bathroom, it didn't take too much sleuthing for people to realize what had happened.

Draco found him sitting outside the bathroom. He raised an eyebrow at Harry’s ruffled appearance, but didn’t lecture him like he expected.

“I don’t want to go back to the party,” Harry admitted petulantly.

“To be honest, I don’t think they want you back,” Draco said. When Harry flinched at the news, he amended, “they’re all understanding about why you’re sloshed. They just want to spare the kids from seeing it.”

“Right,” Harry sighed.

“Common, let’s get you to bed so you can sleep it off. Postpone feeling bad about this until the morning,” Draco said, and helped Harry up.

“Do you even know where I live?” Harry wondered and leaned against Draco’s side for support.

“No. You’re staying with me tonight,” he said and helped Harry make his way to Mrs. Weasley to say goodbye.

“James can stay with me for the night,” she offered. He probably should have felt ashamed of being such an incompetent dad, but in that moment, he could only feel relief.

“Thanks,” he said. She looked to be holding up OK, and Harry admired her strength. “You’re too good, Mrs. Weasley.”

“Get some rest dear,” she told him.

Harry dutifully wished his son a good night, and bid goodbye to those he ran into on the way out. Draco made sure at least one of those people was one of his best friends. Hermione didn’t look too pleased with him, but she already had her hands full with Ron. He and George had their own share of alcoholic beverages that night, though Harry thought they’d stopped short of drinking enough to be sick.

Using the floo almost made Harry sick up again. He didn’t, but his stomach didn’t settle for a long time. He distantly heard Draco order a house elf to prepare a guestroom. He let Draco support him once more as they made their way up Malfoy Manor’s elegant staircase.

“You sure you want me here?” asked Harry with a slight slurring to his words. “I might sick up on your extrouv-extav-ext-nice stuff.”

“I’m sure my _nice stuff_ can handle it,” Draco responded with a small smile. He let Harry into a beautifully decorated room. Once they reached the bed, he helped Harry remove his clothes. “You good to sleep in your pants, or do you want me to find you some night clothes?”

“No, no, don’t give me your stuff. You’ve done enough; I don’t deserve it,” Harry said. Draco sighed, but decided not to force Harry into pajamas.

“Potter, your self-worth isn’t supposed to be lower than mine,” he commented as he helped Harry get under the sheets.

“Yours would be too, if you did what I did,” Harry said softly. Draco was quiet as he tucked Harry in. He sat on the edge of the bed when he was done.

“Potter, whatever you had to do during the war... stop beating yourself up over it. You were in a war. It was justified-”

“It wasn’t justified!” Harry said too loudly.

“You were fighting for your life, and the lives of many others. Whatever it is, you had valid reasons,” Draco insisted.

“No. No. I told myself that. That I had to make sure I survived because I had to kill him. It was supposed to be me, Dumbledore said. So, so, I did it. I told myself- I said, it was OK because I would save them, but I _didn’t_. Ginny’s dead. Neville killed him. Kind _Neville_! He shouldn’t have had to. I was already all twisted up. It wouldn’t have made a difference to my soul. But it was for nothing. Nothing. Because Neville saved us, and I killed Ginny. I wasn’t justif-tif-right. You had reasons. I did bad things because I was sel-selfish. But you had reasons. You were a death eater.”

“Being a death eater isn’t a good reason,” Draco responded.

“No. No. But they _made_ you. Your aunt- you didn’t do it on your own. You did it for your mum. That’s a good reason. I thought I had a good reason, but I _didn’t_ ,” Harry insisted. “If you knew, you’d tell me it wasn’t good.”

“I doubt that, Potter. Why don’t you tell me, and I can show you how wrong you are,” Draco suggested.

“No, I can’t. You’ll hate me. Everyone will. I can’t ever tell anyone,” Harry despaired. His eyes watered and a few tears spilled out before he could stop them or turn away from Draco.

“I’m not sure you should keep hiding it,” Draco said. He raised one hand to Harry’s face and wiped the tears from his cheek. “If it’s causing you this much pain, you should speak to someone. It doesn’t have to be me, but you need to let it out.”

“I don’t want you to hate me,” Harry said softly.

“I won’t hate you,” Draco promised.

“It’s bad,” Harry hedged.

“I figured. You wouldn’t be this torn up if it wasn’t bad,” Draco said.

“I want to tell you, but I can’t,” Harry said. He looked away from Draco, but didn’t pull away physically.

“Like I said, it doesn’t have to be me,” Draco reminded him.

“No, if I tell anyone... I think it has to be you. I can’t tell anyone else. Ron and Hermione wouldn’t speak to me anymore. I can tell you, but I don’t want to lose you,” Harry tried to explain.

“Potter... it would have to be really terrible for you to lose me,” Draco tried to reassure him.

“But it _is_. It’s terrible, Draco. So, so bad,” Harry said. Draco was quiet for a few minutes as he contemplated it. Since their friendship started, Draco had known there was something weighing on Harry. Something beyond Ginny dying in childbirth. He figured the other man had hurt, or possibly killed someone during the war and was prepared to talk him out of the self-hatred Harry had developed as a consequence. But he started to suspect it might be more complicated than that. He took Harry’s drunken words seriously and debated if it was possible for Harry’s secret to truly drive him away.

“Did it hurt my family?” he asked. It might be the only thing Draco wouldn’t be able to forgive.

“No,” Harry reassured. As far as he knew, the snatcher hadn’t been related to Draco.

“Then I don’t think whatever you say will make me hate you so much I break off our friendship,” Draco concluded.

“But I did something so bad, Draco. I thought it would only hurt me, but it didn’t. It hurt _Ginny_ , Draco. I hurt Ginny. And maybe James too – no, James is OK. He’s the only one OK because he doesn’t know. I don’t know what the side-effects are, but I’m OK. Well, I’m not crazy like _he_ was, so James should be OK. Right?” Harry babbled.

“I don’t understand,” Draco said, unable to confirm that Harry’s son would be alright. He didn’t know how James was part of Harry’s biggest secret. He thought whatever it was happened long before James was born.

“But you have to understand. Please, Draco. You said you wouldn’t hate me,” Harry despaired.

“I don’t hate you,” he reassured. “I need you to start at the beginning.”

“I, I, OK. It’s because I thought I was going to die. Dumbledore said I was the only one who could kill Voldemort, but I didn’t know if I would survive long enough to do it. He found a way he could keep coming back, you see, and we couldn’t figure out how to undo it. There were just so many to find, right? And even if we found them, we had to somehow destroy them,” Harry said. He wanted Draco to understand how desperate he’d been.

“Found what, Harry?” Draco said. Harry wasn’t very coherent due to his inebriation. Part of Draco considered letting Harry sober up before they had this conversation, but he knew Harry would clam up again if he waited.

“His _horcruxes_ , Draco,” Harry stressed. “As in more than one!”

“What’s a horcrux?” Draco asked.

“You don’t know?” asked Harry in surprise.

“Should I?” asked Draco.

“No. No one should know what they are. They’re horrible. You break off a piece of your soul and place it in an object. If you die you can come back because a piece of your soul remains. But you have to kill someone to make it. Kill them and... and... Draco, I can’t! It’s too horrible. The things you do to make one! No one should make one. And he made so many. We couldn’t find them all. And they all had enchantments to protect them. We didn’t know how to destroy them for the longest time. It seemed impossible, you see? You understand? Draco?” Harry looked at him, worried Draco wouldn’t understand.

“Yes, I understand,” Draco reassured him. He raised his hand to thread through Harry’s hair and swept it back. Harry relaxed as Draco essentially pet him. “That’s... That is bad... That explains why he was so... unstable. I can’t imagine splitting your soul even once.”

“I did,” Harry whispered.

“You did what?” asked Draco.

“I imagined it... I did it...” Harry said softly without looking at Draco. He felt the hand in his hair pause. When he finally raised his worried eyes to meet Draco’s, he saw the other man looked shocked and a little horrified.

“I didn’t want to. I tried to pretend I didn’t even think of it. But then. This man – snatcher – a bunch of them found Hermione and me. We split up but one followed me when I apparated. He splinched himself. I don’t know if I could have saved him, but I didn’t try. I didn’t even try, Draco. Instead I used him to...” Harry’s voiced trailed off before he could confess.

“Harry... Harry, please tell me you didn’t. You didn’t hurt yourself like that,” Draco begged.

“I did. I made a horcrux. It hurt so bad, Draco,” Harry said. He tensed, waiting for Draco to walk out in disgust now that he knew exactly how horrible Harry was. Instead, Draco eventually resumed running his hand through Harry’s hair.

“Harry...” Draco sounded sad instead of disgusted, but Harry found he didn’t like that either. He didn’t want to make Draco sad.

“I had to be sure. I needed to be able to come back if I died. I was supposed to be the only one who could kill him. But I died. His horcruxes were destroyed. Neville killed him, so I wasn’t needed anymore, but it was too late. I came back too late, and no one knew they had to save Ginny,” Harry said.

“How does Ginny factor into this?” Draco asked.

“Of course, I trusted her with my soul! I couldn’t hide it. I don’t know enough curses to keep it safe. And I couldn’t give it to Hermione because she was with me. Ginny was the best choice. And she had experience with horcruxes. She would know what to do with my mum's ring. I thought it was safe. I promise, I thought it was safe,” Harry proclaimed.

“But you think your horcrux attacked her?” Draco asked, confused.

“Not attack. Not exactly. But James, he’s me. He’s my horcrux,” Harry said.

“What? Why would Ginny put your horcrux in a new vessel, her son no less, when you weren’t even dead?” Draco asked.

“Not Ginny. Me. I did this, only me,” Harry said firmly. Ginny bore no blame for this mess.

“And how did you do it when you were in a coma?” Draco pointed out the flaw in Harry’s logic.

“I don’t know. I didn’t mean to. I think it just... she was wearing the ring when we, er, made James. It must have... moved somehow,” Harry said.

“Potter, with this kind of magic, it wouldn’t just _move somehow_. You tethered your soul to a particular object. It would need another ritual to transfer it to something else, or someone else, I guess,” Draco said.

“But it can happen. It happened with me. Volde-sorry, You-Know-Who didn’t mean to make me his horcrux, but it just happened anyway,” Harry pointed out.

“What? You were his...” Draco asked horrified.

“Yeah. My scar. And he didn’t mean to make me into one. So, it can happen accidentally, you see?” Harry pointed out.

“Maybe...” Draco conceded though he sounded unconvinced. He grew quiet as he got lost in his thoughts.

“Do you hate me now?” whispered Harry when he couldn’t stand the silence any longer. Draco looked down and noted that Harry had started crying again.

“No, I don’t hate you, Potter,” Draco said gently. He untangled his hand from Harry’s strands, and brought it down to wipe at the new tear tracks.

“But-”

“No buts. I don’t hate you. And I’ll help you figure it out,” Draco said firmly.

“What?” asked Harry.

“You can’t keep wondering these what ifs. I’ll help you figure out if James really is your horcrux like you think,” Draco said.

“You’ll... help me?” Harry questioned. He didn’t doubt that James was his horcrux, but was surprised by Draco’s offer. He’d expected the other man to walk away in disgust. Instead he offered help. Unable to stop it, Harry burst into full-fledged drunken sobbing. Draco continued to run a soothing hand in his hair, or down his upper back while Harry cried himself to sleep.

He felt horrible when he woke up in the morning, but noticed a hangover-relief potion waiting for him on the nightstand. There was also a change of clothes left out for him. Harry could tell from the style of the robe that it was from Draco’s closet. He felt odd wearing something clearly very expensive, but found he liked how soft the fabric was against his skin.

When he ventured out of the room, he wasn’t sure which way to go. There were too many doors in the hallway that he couldn’t even guess which one would be Draco’s... Assuming the Malfoys didn’t have a whole wing dedicated just for guests. Harry decided to chance going downstairs. He reasoned that if he didn’t find Draco in any of the common areas, he would just ask a house elf to pass on his thanks and floo home.

He found Draco in a ridiculously large dinning room, made even more absurd by the fact the man was eating alone when the table could easily fit twenty-four people.

“Breakfast? Tea?” Draco asked.

“Thanks,” he said and sat down next to Draco. He wanted to make a quick escape, but knowing his first stop would have to be the Weasleys to pick up his son had him agreeing to the acceptable delay.

“I’m not going to beat around the bush,” Draco warned once his house elf served Harry breakfast. “I meant what I said last night. I will help you figure out what happened to your horcrux.”

“Oh, God. That really happened? I thought I just dreamt it,” Harry said, horrified to realize he really had told Draco about the worst thing he’d ever done. Draco gave Harry a moment to absorb the new state of things.

“You really don’t... hate me? Or think I’m the worst human being to ever live?” Harry asked. Draco snorted in response.

“No. I lived with the worst human being to ever live. As much as you might have followed his footsteps in making a horcrux, you are nothing like him,” Draco reassured.

“I actually have a lot in common with him. Too much,” Harry admitted.

“Not the things that truly count,” Draco reassured firmly. As friendly as he and Draco had become, he wasn’t used to the other man so blatantly complimenting him. He found he rather liked it and hoped Draco meant what he said.

“I’m going to look into soul magic. I think there may be a few books in the family library, but I doubt they cover something as advanced as horcruxes. The only soul magic I can think of off the top of my head are rituals to communicate with dead ancestors, or old-fashioned marriage ceremonies that _supposedly_ bound two souls together. I suspect I will have to order more books - from overseas as mine and mother’s day-to-day lives are still scrutinized by the ministry and journalists,” Draco said.

“You don’t have to. Especially if you think it would get you in trouble with the ministry,” Harry responded.

“I want to. Besides, you know I love a good challenge,” Draco smirked.

“Still, if you can’t find anything, don’t worry about it,” Harry said.

“I’m a Malfoy, Potter. I’m perfectly capable of learning any branch of magic I set my mind to,” Draco said arrogantly.

“Alright, alright,” Harry said. He paused before adding a “thank you.”

Draco nodded. He looked unsure for a moment, but then pushed past whatever initial reservations he had to state “I will need you to go over everything. You weren’t the most... coherent last night.”

“I... alright...”

“Great. Let’s start with going through the steps needed to create a horcrux,” Draco said, Harry blanched immediately.

“Draco, I can’t. It’s too...” Harry put down his fork and pushed away his meal as his stomach churned just thinking about what he’d done. _How_ he’d done it. Draco observed him with a frown and glanced at Harry’s unfinished meal.

“Alright... if you can’t... I won’t ask again unless I get stuck and need a new angle to explore,” Draco offered. Harry nodded in gratitude, knowing that he’d made Draco’s research significantly harder.

“Can you tell me why you’re so convinced James is your horcux?” asked Draco.

“Well, the ring was destroyed. That doesn’t happen easily. We needed things like basilisk venom and fiendfyre to destroy the others. But it was destroyed when James was born,” Harry explained.

“It was a difficult birth, correct?” asked Draco.

“So I’m told. Probably because my horcrux was draining her energy,” Harry said bitterly.

“How do you figure?” asked Draco.

“That’s what the diary did. Ginny had one of _his_ horcruxes during our second year. It drained her energy and possessed her to get stronger,” Harry said.

“So, horcruxes are sentient?” Draco wondered.

“Yes... Well sort of? I wrote in the diary and it responded. Even showed me a memory. The locket influenced our emotions. Towards the end it showed Ron... well, it was something Ron feared might happen, so it was able to pick up on our thoughts. It also tried to drown me,” Harry recounted.

“It was strong enough to drown you?” Draco asked in surprise. Though he was confused about how an inanimate object could drown someone.

“We’d all been wearing it for awhile. I think it siphoned off energy or magic or something from us,” Harry said.

“What about the one in you?” Draco asked, worried what effects the horcrux attached to Harry for years might have done to him.

“Er, nothing. I mean, it opened a connection between our minds. He was able to use it to send me false visions. But nothing from the horcrux itself...” Harry said. “I think it was too small of a piece. Or maybe because it was unintentionally made.”

“Do you think the same limitations will apply for James?” Draco questioned.

“Oh... you think James might be carrying my horcrux?” asked Harry. He wondered if that was better or worse than what he feared.

“Don’t you? I thought you said it moved from the ring to James,” Draco said confused.

“Yeah, but I meant... I think James is the other half of my soul. Like, he’s my soul reincarnated,” Harry suggested.

“Why?” asked Draco.

“Well, look at him. He is me. He has all my features. All of them. I can’t find anything he inherited from Ginny,” Harry pointed out.

“That happens. Everyone says I look like my father,” Draco pointed out.

“Sure, but you have features from your mum too. Everyone says I look like my dad but have my mum’s eyes. James looks like a replica of me,” Harry said.

“He’s still young. Some of his features aren’t all that distinct yet,” Draco countered.

“Maybe...” Harry said, but Draco could tell he wasn’t convinced.

Draco had Harry explain as much as he was comfortable sharing. Harry gave a vague account of when it happened, how he knew what to do, a PG version of when he gave Ginny the ring, and finally how he’d woken up from the coma to be handed a broken ring and a new baby. Draco wasn’t as certain as Harry that James was his horcrux, but he couldn’t offer any alternative theories before he researched soul magic. He promised to keep Harry updated on his progress.

Harry left soon after as he couldn’t leave James with the Weasleys all morning. They’d done enough for him as it was. He dreaded facing Mrs. Weasley as he worried he’d see her disappointment in him. Instead, Hermione was waiting for him and he didn’t know if that was better or worse.

“Harry...” she started as Harry gathered James’ things.

“I know, Hermione. You don’t have to say it. I’m being irresponsible. I can’t get drunk when I have a child relying on me. I know I fucked up,” Harry said.

“You’re allowed to grieve,” Hermione was quick to reassure him. “No one holds last night against you. Everyone was a little depressed.”

“Yeah, well, not everyone decided to get drunk, did they?” asked Harry self-deprecatingly.

“Ron was a mess. George too. I’m pretty sure Mr. Weasley wasn’t holding up as well as he pretended to,” Hermione offered.

“Yeah, well...” Harry didn’t know what to say. He knew Hermione was trying to tell him that he wasn’t alone, but it just made him feel worse to have left his responsibilities on their laps when they were hurting too.

“All I’m trying to say is that it’s OK to grieve... but you have to let it out sometime,” Hermione advised.

“I know,” Harry said, and he did. He knew everyone wouldn’t give him an indefinite pass on being a miserable sod. He just didn’t know how to go about it when his family was a constant reminder of what he’d cost them. He had to get his shit together somehow. Fortunately, he felt a bit lighter after unloading on Draco. “If it makes you feel better, I drunk-sobbed all over Malfoy last night.”

“You didn’t,” Hermione said with a laugh.

“I did. I’m pretty sure it was ugly sobbing too, though my memory is a bit spotty. Maybe it wasn’t bad. He did give me breakfast and lent me some clothes, so it couldn’t have been that bad, right?” Harry said.

“I thought those robes looked familiar... you know, I didn’t really believe you and Andromeda when you said Malfoy had grown up... but maybe he isn’t as much of a prat after all...” Hermione decided. She didn’t like the idea of Harry feeling like he couldn’t come to her, but she was intelligent enough to recognize she was too close to it. Ron even more so. She’d been glad that he struck up a friendship with Andromeda, though she’d been uneasy when that friendship began to include the Malfoys. Until last night, Hermione had her doubts about Malfoy. She would never be his biggest fan, but was mature enough to recognize he helped improve Harry’s overall wellbeing.

For the next several months, Draco updated Harry on interesting soul magic spells and rituals he’d discovered. Nothing directly helped solve the horcrux concern. Harry was a little disappointed but understood Draco’s analogy of being at a first-year level of knowledge on this branch of magic, while horcruxes were advanced seventh year stuff. He knew it could take years to have any solid answers... assuming it was even possible at all.

“Do you know why you survived the killing curse?” Draco asked one day. It was one of the many questions he’d asked in relation to his research, but it was the first one Harry understood could be connected to soul magic theory.

“The first time, well Dumbledore said something about a mother’s love. It’s not that simple, obviously... I have some memories you can see, if you think it will help,” Harry offered thinking of what he heard when near dementors, as well as Snape’s memories.

“As for the second time...” Harry paused, realizing he was about to share another big secret with Draco. He instinctively balked at the idea of telling anyone, but immediately realized he was being ridiculous. He trusted Draco with his worst secret already.

He recounted how he learnt about the deathly hallows. He was amused by Draco’s reaction to learning the hallows were real and how he’d unknowing been the brief master of the elder wand. As he recounted what he experienced, or thought he experienced in purgatory, a terrible possibility occurred to him.

“I wanted to come back. I was given the choice, and decided to come back. Do you think that’s why – when I chose to come back the universe, or whatever, tried to do it by having my soul be reborn?” Harry questioned aloud. He continued before Draco had a chance to answer. “No, that doesn’t make sense. Ginny would have already been pregnant... and I returned to my original body. Eventually,” Harry added as the thought it through more. He remained uneasy about his choice to come back, even though it couldn’t have been a direct cause to creating James.

Draco’s research expanded into learning more about the deathly hallows. Somehow that led to Draco often reading the fable to James as a bedtime story. Eventually it got to the point where Harry had to floo Draco and ask him to come over just for the bedtime story, since James only wanted to be read to by Draco. Harry probably should have been insulted that his reading skills weren’t deemed sufficient, but he was secretly glad about James’ insistence. It gave Harry an excuse to see Draco daily.

He wasn’t sure when it happened, but somewhere along the way Harry had fallen hard for Draco. It didn’t help that Draco was so good with James. He was certainly a better role model than Harry was. Draco was so patient with James too. Whenever he watched them together, it made Harry want Draco even more. He feared it was completely obvious that he perked up just as much as James did whenever Draco walked into the room.

Not that he acted on his feelings. He’d done enough damage to Ginny. He didn’t deserve a second chance; especially since he wasn’t sure he or his horcrux wouldn’t unintentionally hurt Draco in some unforeseen way. He was content to bask in Draco’s friendship, and let that be enough.

Apparently, other people did not have the same reservations.

“Are you ever going to ask that young man on a proper date?” asked Andromeda. She’d invited the Malfoys over for Teddy and James’ play date. Harry and Draco kept the boys entertained while the two older women caught up over tea. Harry had just stepped into the kitchen to get a glass of water, when Andromeda dropped that bombshell on him.

“What?” Harry asked in alarm. He glanced at Mrs. Malfoy, but she also gave him an expectant look. Harry’s stomach twisted to realize that he’d somehow gained the woman’s approval to date her son, but he couldn’t act on it.

“He deserves better,” Harry admitted softly.

“Harry,” Mrs. Malfoy spoke with obvious concern, but Harry had already turned away and rejoined Draco and the boys. He claimed not to be thirsty after all when Draco realized he came back without a glass of water.

Harry might not have been too concerned if it had only been Andromeda and Mrs. Malfoy that noticed his infatuation. After all, they had plenty of opportunities to watch Harry and Draco interact. So, when Harry realized his other friends had caught on as well, he knew he was being too obvious.

“You know... we’d all understand if you moved on,” Ron said awkwardly.

“What?” asked Harry.

“Look, I’m never going to think you’ll find someone as good as Ginny... but that doesn’t mean you have to be alone the rest of your life,” Ron elaborated.

“Er, right but...” he couldn’t explain why he felt he shouldn’t move on, so he lied and told them “there’s no one I’m interested in.”

“No one?” asked Hermione shrewdly.

“No, I...” Harry stopped at the unimpressed look on her face.

“It’s alright, mate,” Neville added. “I wouldn’t have expected it, but he’s a decent bloke.”

“Who is?” Harry asked, just to be sure. Not that there were many possibilities of who they could be talking about. Harry didn’t have a large circle of friends and acquaintances.

“Malfoy, Harry,” Hermione answered.

“Er...” he stalled, trying to think of something he could say to get them to drop it.

“No one would be upset if you started dating again,” Hermione added more gently.

“Even mum’s alright with it. Well, she’s not pleased that you’ve chosen a Malfoy, but he’s good with James. That counts for a lot with her,” Ron told him.

“He’s great with James,” Harry defended unnecessarily. Most days he thought Draco took better care of the child than he did.

“So, what’s the problem?” asked Neville. “We thought perhaps you didn’t know how to tell us, but I’m beginning to suspect you’re not actually with Draco.”

“We’re not. We’re just friends,” Harry said.

“But why?” asked Ron. “I don’t want to encourage you date the ferret if you’re not into him... but it’s pretty clear you are, mate. And it’s pretty obvious he wants you too.”

Harry’s heart soared at the possibility, but he trampled it down.

“He’s not – we’re not... I _can’t_ ,” Harry said.

The others were quiet as they waited for him to elaborate. When it became clear he wasn’t going to, Hermione just said encouragingly, “when you’re ready, we will support you,” and they all let the subject drop.

Even James seemed to be encouraging it. He’d interrupted Harry and Draco’s conversation with a happy “Da!” They’d both turned towards the child, and noticed his arms raised towards Draco, not Harry. Draco had turned worried eyes on Harry.

“You probably do more for him than I do,” Harry shamefully admitted.

“Nonsense,” Draco replied, but he picked up James and gave him a hug. Draco continued to send worried looks towards Harry, but he wasn’t mad. Seeing the two of them together just made him want what he couldn’t have. It seemed he and James shared the same fantasy.

Harry tried not to be too obvious when they were around other people after those comments, but he found himself slipping when he was alone with the other man. When Draco had gifted James a nightlight that projected stars on to the ceiling, Harry had not been able to stop admiring it. James had developed a fear of the dark, but none of the store-bought nightlights had seemed to help. Draco decided to create his own, and James was finally satisfied with the softer dispersed lights and its ability to play a soft tune if he was still scared. Harry hadn’t been able to stop complimenting Draco’s brilliance that night.

Another time, he’d literally tripped over his own feet the day Draco stopped by in a perfectly tailored suit. Draco had laughed and assumed Harry’s surprise was due to the muggle outfit and not how sinful Draco looked in it. He’d bought the suit to attend a charity gala hosted by a half-blood proud of his roots. Draco hoped that by wearing the muggle attire he could regain some prestige for the Malfoy name.

Perhaps the most embarrassing moment was when he’d listened to Draco excitedly explain a new magical theory he’d learnt. Harry had been so completely enraptured, he didn’t realized he’d set his elbow in his lunch when he’d positioned himself to rest his chin on his hand. It was only when Draco laughed, and cleared away the mess with a spell that Harry realized what he’d done. “Potter, sometimes I think you’d be lost without me,” Draco had joked, but Harry silently agreed. He didn’t know where he’d be without the man.

Harry had been content to leave it there. Happy to take whatever time Draco gave him, and not be selfish to ask for more. He honestly had not intended to progress into a romantic relationship, but somehow fell into it anyway.

“Potter, your hair is getting rather long,” Draco observed. He emphasized his point by running his hand through Harry’s locks. It wasn’t the first time he’d done that, so Harry didn’t think much of it.

“A trim won’t actually make it any more manageable,” Harry responded in a distracted manner. He slowly turned towards Draco, unaware of how close the other man was. “No matter what I do, it’s always-”

Harry cut off once he was face-to-face with Draco. They both blinked as they realized they were a hair’s breath away from each other. Harry briefly allowed himself to admire the colour of Draco’s eyes before he started to pull away. He stopped immediately when Draco’s hand tightened in his hair. Before he could voice the question, Draco closed the distance between them.

Harry let out an embarrassingly needy whine as Draco’s lips met his. He knew he shouldn’t, but he allowed himself this one moment of weakness. Instead of pulling away, Harry deepened the kiss as he pulled Draco closer. He didn’t know if it lasted a minute or an hour, but he felt at peace and happy for the first time since he made that damned horcrux. He would have stayed that way had Draco’s other hand not started to tease the hemline of his shirt.

“I can’t,” Harry gasped as he pulled away. He was still so close, he couldn’t miss the flash of hurt that crossed Draco’s face before he started to shut down. Harry’s stomach churned as he realized Draco thought Harry was rejecting _him_.

“Draco, you know I’m – Draco, please, you deserve so much better,” Harry pleaded with him to understand that Harry had pulled away, not because he didn’t want Draco, but because he wanted Draco to find someone better.

He saw the anger, and then the pain that crossed Draco’s face. “Potter, that’s bullshit and you know it.”

“It’s not,” Harry insisted. “You _know_. You know what I’ve done. That it made me... half a person at best.”

“You’re not half a person, Potter,” Draco said, he wanted to stop that ridiculous notion right away. He kept a firm hand in Harry’s hair and brought the other to cup his cheek. “You’re right. I do know you. I know you’re the most generous person in my life. I know you fight for everyone, except perhaps yourself. I know you try to make a better world for the people you care about. What I don’t know is how you don’t see it yourself.”

“But-”

“Even if – even if you no longer have all of your soul, you’re still a better person than most of the people I know,” Draco added.

“Most?” he questioned, charmed despite his efforts to do right by Draco.

“Mum sets a pretty high precedent,” Draco joked. Harry didn’t quite relent, but he allowed himself to relax in Draco’s hold.

“And you should find someone who meets that,” he added softly. “Draco, you deserve-”

“Let me decide what I deserve,” Draco interrupted. “If _you_ don’t want me, then that’s one thing. But I’m perfectly capable of deciding who I want.”

It was a valid argument. He really had no business making decisions about what was best for the other man. He could only decide what he would be willing to live with. He thought his own conscience would not allow him to risk hurting Draco, and thus he held back. But rejecting the man now would hurt them both. And frankly, Harry was running out of strength to resist what he truly wanted if it was actually within his grasp. He resolved that he would allow himself this, and spend every day making sure Draco had no cause to regret it. “Alright... that’s fair,” he admitted.

“So... Potter, do you want to be with me?” asked Draco.

“Yes,” Harry answered. He had not looked away from the man, so he noted the relief his words brought.

“Good choice,” Draco said. It only held a fraction of his usual Malfoy haughtiness, but Harry was charmed by the smirk all the same.

This time when Draco leaned in for a kiss, Harry did not pull away. Being able to kiss Draco was even better than he imagined, even if he was wracked with nerves. He was excited, oh so excited, to be so close to him. But part of him was terrified. He hadn’t been this close to anyone in a long time. To be honest, he hadn’t had all that much opportunity to be close to even Ginny. It was new territory and he was eager to explore it. He knew how it could all go horribly wrong, but he wasn’t going to pull away again. This time when Draco’s hand teased the hem of his shirt, he pressed forward.

Harry thought his new favourite sounds were the ones Draco made when Harry kissed his neck, caressed his back, tugged at nipple – really any sound the man made as Harry discovered each unique detail of his body. And Harry explored it thoroughly. Mostly with his mouth. He found Draco did not have any more experience than he did, so they spent their time learning how to move together, and figuring out what felt good for the other. Draco called him a generous lover, but Harry knew he was really greedy as lived for pulling out all the appreciative sounds and compliments he could from Draco.

Having a young child to care for did put a damper on their raging hormones. Most days they aimed for quickies or desperately waited for James’ nap time. Harry found himself taking advantage of any offer to babysit someone gave him. Andromeda always gave them a knowing smirk when they dropped off James at her house. Narcissa was more subtle, but Harry detected a twinkle in her eye whenever she bid them farewell with a parting “have fun”. Mrs. Weasley always gave him a genuinely happy smile, as she would never turn away from an opportunity to spend time with her grandson. Harry was always reluctant to ask her when the reason was so that he could go on a date. Ginny’s death still occupied the space between them, and it felt wrong to be so demonstrative in how he’d moved on to someone else.

The discomfort both of them felt might have gone on indefinitely had Mrs. Weasley not insisted they talk it over. There had been lots of tears, Harry apologized profusely, and Molly insisted that it was OK. It had been hard for her to say, and hard for Harry to hear, but Molly asserted that James should have two parents to care for him. It hurt that Ginny would never be involved, but James should not be deprived of love because of it. Molly trusted Harry’s judgement that Draco could provide both her boys that love. It had left Harry simultaneously filled with guilt and gratitude.

When Mrs. Weasley insisted he bring Draco over for a family meal, Harry did not have the strength to deny her. Draco was understandably nervous but marched to the burrow with his head held high. It was painfully awkward. Mrs. Weasley did her best to welcome him, but Mr. Weasley kept glaring at ‘that Malfoy boy’. His sons were a little less hostile, but just as suspicious. Even Ron and Hermione, who had insisted they would be OK with it long before Harry knew it was even a possibility, had difficulty letting go of the past. They tried, but talking about quidditch turned tense. Hermione and Draco’s intellectual debates turned mean. Even Harry’s desperate attempt to talk about the ridiculous price of vegetables had somehow resulted in an exchange of glares. It would have been a complete disaster if not for James.

The first time James had reached for Draco, no one thought much of it. But eventually the Weasleys noticed a pattern. James allowed any of them to give him a hug or attention. But eventually he would wriggle free and run towards someone else. That someone else was consistently Draco. They also noticed how fussy James was being with the meal, until Draco took over encouraging him to eat. What sealed the deal was Draco comforting the child when he’d bumped his head. Harry worried the Weasleys would resent James’ obvious favouritism, but instead they relaxed. Apparently, James’ seal of approval counted for a lot more than Harry’s.

Their first year together was occasionally rocky, but not as explosive as their old classmates and professors might have assumed. They still had disagreements. Not as many as when they were children, but just as intense when they were both angry. That first year was an exercise in learning how to compromise. Harry put off starting his career so he could continue to be a stay at home dad during James’ early years. He would have preferred starting auror training but knew that wouldn’t be fair. Firstly, because James was his responsibility and he didn’t feel right asking family and friends to watch him every day. Secondly, because Draco was working to attain a double mastery. One in Charms and the other in Divination; both to help Harry. Draco liked Charms well enough but would not have bothered pursuing Divination if he wasn’t exploring soul magic for Harry’s benefit. They were the two legal subjects whose magical theory might also apply to soul magic and horcruxes. Harry felt guilty, especially since he knew Draco would have chosen a Potions mastery, but he couldn’t talk Draco out of it. His boyfriend insisted he had enough money and time to pursue a third mastery later. The fact that Draco found soul magic genuinely interesting helped assuage his guilt.

Harry felt his biggest compromise was agreeing to join Draco at all the charity dinners and fancy galas he was invited to. Before they started dating, Harry avoided such events unless one of his friends insisted it was an important one or Neville asked him to attend and draw some of the attention away from him. As Draco’s boyfriend, Harry found himself attending every single one. He found the people there as boring as the event itself, and consequently spaced out during conversations. His inattention eventually gave him a reputation for being flighty. One day, the other witches and wizards at the event began introducing him as Draco’s date, instead of as the boy who lived. Harry thought it was hilarious. Though, it was odd feeling like Draco’s arm candy when Harry felt like Draco was the more attractive one in their relationship. When he shared this with Draco just before they attended yet another fancy dinner, his boyfriend had rolled his eyes, unbuttoned the top couple of buttons on Harry’s shirt, and stated, “there. Fixed it. You’re now the hottest one.” Harry had laughed, but left the buttons undone. He’d never argue against feeling more comfortable when Draco was the one giving him a pass at high society propriety. Especially when Draco fell victim to his own actions and dragged Harry into a broom closet to snog halfway through the evening.

“You’re absolutely gorgeous,” Draco said as leaned in for one last kiss. He knew they couldn’t linger much longer before they were missed, but he couldn’t resist.

“I don’t know,” Harry muttered as he brushed his thumb against Draco’s swollen lips. “You’re certainly giving me a run for my money.”

Ron had called him a love-sick fool on more than one occasion. Harry didn’t deny it. How could he not be when Draco consistently proved to be the best boyfriend on the planet. The man somehow juggled his studies, additional research, taking care of James and Harry both, and still made time for family, friends, and various social engagements. In comparison, Harry felt like he did nothing all day and still ended up exhausted.

The only thing that caused genuine strife in their relationship was when Lucius Malfoy appealed his conviction. Draco had been nervous but hopeful to get his father back. Harry thought the man deserved to rot a bit longer. He didn’t say so aloud, at least not to Draco, but the underlying sentiments were obvious. It caused continuous tension in their relationship for the duration of the trial. Harry grew even more aggravated when he felt like Mr. Malfoy was using his family’s connection to Harry to help his case. Especially since it worked. Lucius Malfoy was released from Azkaban years before he should have been.

Draco focused his attention on helping his father recuperate. Logically Harry understood that Azkaban tore people down. He recalled how fragile Draco looked following his release, and that was during a time he had still hidden parts of himself from Harry. Draco still couldn’t talk about it except in bits and pieces. Lucius had been in Azkaban longer than his son, and likely was in poor health. He would need support. He knew Draco loved his father and would be part of his support system. Harry understood this... and yet he still became despondent when Draco barely made time for him. Draco did fire-call, but they were relatively short and focused on appeasing James, who didn’t understand why Draco had to spend his days and nights away from them. Harry waited for the day when Draco would leave him because Mr. Malfoy did not approve of a single father with a ‘questionable’ blood status as a partner for his only son.

This fear meant Draco had to do very little to convince Harry to attend family dinners with the Malfoys once Lucius felt well enough for company. The first few were as awkward as Harry expected. Neither he nor Lucius contributed much to the conversation. Luckily Narcissa, Draco and James kept the chatter going.

Eventually Lucius asked to speak to Harry privately. Harry expected the man to warn him away from his son. Instead, Lucius told him he would not interfere so long as Harry kept making Draco happy. He followed it up with a rather a scary shovel talk – one only a former death eater could give weight to. Harry knew it wasn’t just a front like other fathers would give to their child’s boyfriend. Harry was pretty sure Mr. Malfoy had killed someone before and likely knew exactly how to hide the body. Still, if it ever came to it – if Harry actually hurt Draco enough that his family sought revenge, it wasn’t Lucius Malfoy that Harry was leery of. His wife on the other hand would be truly terrifying.

Surprisingly, despite the threats, their conversation had cleared the air enough that the dinners were no longer tense affairs. Both Lucius and Harry participated more in the conversation, and even spoke civilly towards each other. By the time Andromeda was ready to invite her sister’s husband into her home, Harry was prepared and willing to attend and support her. There were plenty of uneasy moments, but it helped that Lucius was kind to both Teddy and James, despite his feelings about both boys’ parentage.

Over time, Lucius and Harry’s interaction became easy. Not enough for Harry to feel like Lucius approved of him, but enough that he no longer dreaded having to spend time with the man. Draco had been exceedingly amused when they started attending quidditch matches together. The first time it happened was because Draco felt ill and suggested his father take his place at the match. Harry would have preferred to ask Ron, but Draco had made the suggestion in front of his parents. Narcissa had jumped on to the idea, and both men were left awkwardly agreeing. Apparently rooting for the same team, insulting the moves of the opposing team, and fanboying over well-executed maneuvers was enough to make the experience enjoyable. Enough that it kept happening, and Harry even found himself fire-calling Lucius to discuss the overseas matches they didn’t attend in person. It wasn’t the sort of friendship people wrote poetry about, but it was a vast improvement from where they’d started.

Harry and Draco eventually settled back into their routine, and Harry let go of his fear that Draco would leave him. He still felt in his heart that he was unworthy of Draco; that creating a horcrux had permanently tainted him and there would always be a part of him he couldn’t give to Draco because of it. Consequently, he would have left their relationship as it was... had Draco not proposed.

Draco went with a traditional proposal. He set up a romantic dinner. It was at Harry’s home, because Harry didn’t enjoy being out in public. Too often someone came up to them to gush over the chosen one. Worse were the times someone harassed Draco about his past. When the focus was on him, Harry was embarrassed, but when slurs were thrown at Draco, Harry became angry. And his anger was explosive. So, Draco limited any public meals to the galas and events they attended.

There were some benefits to a home meal. Draco was able to set up Harry’s dining room with several romantic touches. He liberally decorated with Gryffindor red, though the only acknowledgement he made of it was to tell Harry red was the colour of love. An intricate centerpiece made with lilies took prominence on the table, though Draco made sure it was low enough that they could still make eye contact. Rose petals led from the table to Harry’s bedroom in case the night ended enjoyably.

Draco knew Harry would enjoy the food more than the decorations. Draco had not cooked it himself; he was willing to admit that wasn’t one of his many talents. So, he got his house elf to make gourmet versions of all of Harry’s favourites. He asked Mrs. Weasley to help with a couple of side-dishes because he knew from experience that Harry felt no other could compare to her cooking. But the heart of the meal was the desert. Hidden in a scrumptious treacle tart was an engagement ring.

Draco carefully watched Harry dig in to the carefully marked slice. The minute it took Harry to find the ring would go down on his top five most stressful moments. He had just enough time to rethink his plan, suddenly worried Harry would swallow it whole without realizing it was there. He relaxed minutely when he saw Harry furrow his brows and spit the ring into his napkin in a more graceful manner than he would have before he dated Draco. Harry’s breath hitched as it registered what he was looking at, and Draco prepared to propose.

“Harry, will you-”

“Yes,” Harry said even before Draco could ask.

“Well... that was easy,” Draco said with a smile.

“Sorry, you probably had a whole speech. Did I ruin it?” Harry worriedly asked. His hand closed over the ring as if fearful Draco would take it back because Harry interrupted.

“No, this is perfect. It’s nice to know you’re eager to keep me,” Draco smiled, and placed his hand over Harry’s. “May I?”

Harry let Draco take the ring from him. His breath hitched a second time that night when Draco got on bended knee with the ring held up as an offering.

“And here I thought the novelty of seeing me on my knees for you had worn off,” Draco teased instead of the actual romantic speech he had written out.

“Really? You’re going with innuendo? Your mum is going to ask me to describe this moment in detail; what am I supposed to tell her?” Harry asked.

“She had to listen to me practice this enough times, she won’t want to hear you say it again,” Draco said, but he did go through his speech so that they had an PG version to share that left out the innuendo, and the subsequent follow through as Draco did get Harry to follow the rose petals to the bedroom. Their friends would be curious, but not _that_ curious.

Hours later, they comfortably snuggled with Draco’s head resting on Harry’s chest. Harry considered opening the champagne Draco had left beside the bed, but didn’t want to move. Draco was equally disinclined as it would mean letting go of Harry’s hand, and he wasn’t finished admiring the ring it now displayed.

“I knew it’d have to be me,” Draco admitted. “Not that you aren’t romantic, but I knew I’d have to ask.”

It was true. Harry had no intention of ever leaving Draco, but he wouldn’t have proposed either. Not because he didn’t love Draco, but because he loved him too much. He would never ask Draco to tie himself even more to Harry’s life. He’d thought about it but wanted to leave Draco with the option of a clean break once he realized Harry really was a monster. But now that Draco had asked, Harry couldn’t say no. He promised to let Draco decide who was worthy of him. Unfortunately, Harry realized there was something he’d have to be painfully honest about so Draco could make an informed decision.

“Draco... there is something you need to know. If you really want to marry me, you should know this beforehand...” Harry said.

“Sure,” Draco said. He kept his tone light even though he felt apprehensive.

“When I made the horcrux... er, to make a horcrux, you have to do more than just... kill someone. I...” Harry thought it would be easier to say it while Draco’s head rested on his chest. He could avoid seeing Draco’s expression turn to disgust, but still have the comfort of holding him. However, Harry didn’t know how to get the words out. He’d hidden this secret for years. Draco knew about the horcrux, but he’d never pressured Harry to reveal how it was made. Harry clung to the hope he could live up to the person Draco _thought_ he was. He was about to destroy that. He wouldn’t be able to hide anymore.

“Draco, I, fuck, it’s just... there are multiple steps, you see, and I-”

“I know,” Draco interrupted softly.

“Well, yes, but the steps themselves are well, they’re-”

“No, Harry. I _know_ ,” Draco said. He moved away from the comfort of his fiancés’ arms so that he could look into Harry’s eyes. “I know the ritual to create a horcrux.”

“But... you...” Harry floundered. He wasn’t sure what ritual Draco thought created a horcrux, but he doubted it was the real one. If Draco really knew, he would not calmly lay with him and try to reassure him.

“I’ve known... almost since the beginning. You know I’ve been ordering books internationally? Some countries aren’t as restrictive and openly study soul magic. I found the ritual in one of the texts I bought,” Draco explained.

“But you can’t. If you knew, really knew...” Harry insisted. He tried not to hope.

“Harry, I know the ritual. _Every_ step. I know what you... what you did. I can’t actually picture you doing any of it, but I know what you must have done to create one,” Draco admitted. Harry carefully observed Draco and began to believe him. There was a certain amount of pain and disgust in his expression, even though he did not pull away from Harry. Harry felt relieved but also ashamed.

“Then... why are you still with me? Why would you want to marry me?” Harry couldn’t help but ask.

“You’re a good person,” Draco insisted. When Harry scoffed in response, he pressed on. “I see how much you regret it and how much it hurts you still. I understand why you thought you had to do it.”

“I didn’t have to. It was all for nothing,” Harry couldn’t help but point out.

“But at the time, it felt like your best option. You didn’t create it in some misguided attempt at immortality. You knew it would have negative repercussions, and you’d have to live with it, but you did it anyway just for the chance to keep fighting for your friends. You would damn yourself over and over again to save the people you love. It’s an admirable quality. One I don’t want to encourage, mind you, but it’s admirable,” Draco said. He waited until Harry returned his stare and added, “how could I not love you?”

Harry’s eyes watered and he couldn’t prevent the tears from falling. “Draco-”

“No, Potter. I don’t want to hear any more nonsense about you being a bad person. There is so much good in you. I wish you could see it. As atrocious as you think you are because of the horcrux, you need to understand that that one mistake, as terrible as it is, does not wipe away all the good in you and all the good you’ve done. I’m still with you because every day you show me that good side. I know there is another part of you. A darker part that can... create a horcrux. But Harry, you never let it out. You actively fight against it to the point you overcompensate. I know you think no one would want you if they saw that part of you, but I’m aware. I see all of you, scarhead,” Draco said, saying the last bit softly. He cupped Harry’s face between his palms. “I knew who you were when we started dating. And I’ve loved that man long before then too.”

Draco let Harry absorb his words. A few more tears fell, but Harry didn’t pull away to wipe his face. He just watched Draco and Draco watched him.

“OK,” he said eventually.

“OK?” Draco questioned.

“I believe you. You know the worst parts of me, and still somehow see the best. I don’t get it, but I’m not going to fight it. I’m going to be selfish and keep you with me for as long as you’ll have me,” Harry said.

“I’ll take it,” Draco sighed. “I have to find a way to get you to see it, to believe it. But for now, I’ll take it.”

Draco pressed one chase kiss to Harry’s lips before he returned to his earlier position laying with his head against Harry’s chest. He made a point to grab Harry’s ring hand and hold it tightly.

“I have a bad side too,” Draco said into the quiet of the room.

“Hmmm... yes, I remember all those pranks you pulled. Generally, at my expense,” Harry said to try and lighten the mood.

“You know I’ve done worse than childish pranks... though some of them were rather cruel,” Draco admitted. He remembered thinking himself clever, but in retrospect had been rather mean-spirited.

“That’s different though. No, really. What you did when you were a Death Eater... that was forced upon you. You never cast a curse unless they forced your hand. You didn’t eagerly participate in any of his schemes,” Harry pointed. He felt Draco exhale against his chest.

“I still made choices. Choices that hurt someone,” Draco said. Harry wanted to insist that Draco wouldn’t have done it if his family wasn’t in danger. But he knew Draco would still feel bad about every spell. Mostly because if given the same horrible choice now, he’d still choose to keep his family safe at the expense of another.

“Maybe. But I see your good side too,” Harry said. He wasn’t as eloquent as Draco, so he kept it short. “And your good side is amazing. Even if the horcrux wasn’t a factor, I would still wonder why you want to tie yourself to me.”

Draco snorted. “Please, Potter.”

“No really. You’re amazing,” Harry insisted and brought both arms to hold Draco close.

“You didn’t always think so,” Draco pointed out.

“Well, I didn’t know you then... although, I always knew you were smart. And if pressed, I may have admitted I found you somewhat attractive,” Harry said.

“You would not have,” Draco responded.

“I would. I might have said it between insults,” Harry mused.

“Pointy,” Draco said dryly.

“What?”

“You once told me I looked pointy,” Draco explained.

“Er... well, you grew into those features, didn’t you? You could be a fucking model if you wanted to,” Harry said and hoped Draco didn’t hold any of his childish errors in judgement against him.

“I could, couldn’t I?” Draco said arrogantly, before he snorted in not-so-elegant manner. The two laughed, and Harry relaxed as the conversation turned light-hearted. Harry still worried Draco would come to regret being with him but let himself bask in the feeling of being wanted. A weight had been lifted knowing Draco’s love was given in full knowledge of Harry’s worst flaws.

Almost everyone was just as happy for them. Mrs. Weasley had prepared a celebratory brunch for them, when they stopped by the next morning. She’d been rather pleased about the role she’d played in helping Draco plan the night. Draco hadn’t gone as far as asking the Weasleys for their permission, but including Molly had meant a lot to her, and consequently scored points with her sons. They were all amused when James squealed in delight at the news, though Harry suspected he was working off everyone else’s energy. James already saw Draco as his second father whether it was official or not. Mr. Weasley had let go of his anger towards the Malfoys, or at least towards Draco and he spoke respectfully about Mrs. Malfoy. He generally avoided saying anything about Mr. Malfoy in order to keep the peace. He welcomed Draco to the family with sincerity. Still, Harry made a mental note to make sure Arthur and Lucius were not seated near each other at the wedding.

Their friends sent congratulatory messages, a few made “about time!” jokes, and some insisted on scheduling celebratory dinners. As far as Harry could tell, they all approved and were happy for them.

The only one who seemed reluctant to celebrate the news was Lucius. They decided to officially inform Draco’s parents during dinner. Draco had already spoken to his mother earlier. She had known of his plans to propose and wasn’t going to wait the whole day to find out how Harry responded. She must have told her husband, as he was subdued since they arrived and Draco preemptively asked Molly to watch James that night. Harry expected to finally hear that he wasn’t good enough for his son. Instead, Lucius brought up a different concern.

“Have you discussed your desires concerning children?” he asked.

“Father, that is hardly a discussion for today,” Draco said.

“It is something that should be decided upon before marriage,” Lucius insisted. He suspected Draco was going to change the subject, so he continued before anyone else could speak. “Harry already has an heir. You ought to have one too.”

“James is mine,” Draco insisted. Harry felt his heart soar. His feelings surrounding James were still a mess. He couldn’t look at James without being reminded of the horcrux but took care not to let his self-hatred spread to the child. Even now, he couldn’t offer affection as easily as Draco, and thus appreciated everything Draco did even more.

“Well, yes, but I meant to carry on the family name,” Lucius stressed. As Harry was still looking at Draco with admiration, he saw a flash of something cross his face. When he didn’t jump in immediately, Harry suspected the Malfoy name was as important to Draco as it was to Lucius.

“James can take your name. Well, perhaps hyphenate it,” Harry amended. He didn’t grow up with the same pride about his heritage that Draco was raised with, but continuing on the Potter name seemed like a good way to honor his father. “That is, if you aren’t concerned about James’... purity,” Harry directed the last part to Lucius. He suspected that even if Lucius deemed James’ muggle ancestors were sufficiently far back enough not to pollute his magical inheritance or some other such rot, the Weasley blood was not. They might have been pureblood, but Lucius would not see Weasley genetics suitable for any Malfoy heirs.

“I’m honored to call James my grandson,” Lucius informed him, which surprised Harry until he added, “Draco has done an admirable job raising him with the manners expected of a child from our family.” Harry didn’t bother disputing Lucius’ claim that Draco was solely responsible for the proper upbringing of their child. Harry reinforced the please and thankyous, but Draco was the one that insisted on proper table manners and how they should behave in public. He suspected those were the manners Lucius cared about. Even Harry got the occasional ‘stand up straight, dear.’

“Still, do you not also want genetic children?” Lucius asked.

“When we’re ready, we will look at our options,” Draco said. Harry simultaneously realized that Draco did want more kids, and it was something they probably should have discussed before now.

“You need to consider them now. Have a plan before it’s time-”

“I will carry Harry’s child myself if it comes to that,” Draco said, trying to end the conversation so he and Harry could have it in private first.

“No,” Harry said loud enough to make everyone else flinch in surprise.

“No?” Draco asked. He was more confused than hurt, but rapidly sliding into the latter.

“No,” Harry insisted and put down his fork before he bent it out of shape. “You won’t be the one to carry our kids.”

“If you’re worried about my figure-”

“Oh sure. You gaining baby weight is my biggest concern. It’s not like anything worse could happen to you,” Harry said sarcastically. He knew it was an immature way to handle the conversation, but he was terrified that Draco would insist he carry their child.

“Why are you- oh. Harry, what happened with Ginny won’t happen to us,” Draco tried to reassure.

“You don’t know that. Pregnancy problems happen all the time. I can’t do that again, Draco. Not to you,” Harry said.

“Harry, dear, you know what happened to Ginevra was not your fault,” Narcissa said. She’d known him long enough to know he carried the weight of her death. Despite her words, she also knew Harry had yet to believe anyone who told him it wasn’t his fault.

Harry looked at Draco desperately because Draco knew it _was_ Harry’s fault. And while he had no intention to make Draco wear another horcrux before getting pregnant, it didn’t remove the fear that it could end the same way.

“Draco, I can’t lose you too,” Harry said. When Draco reached out for his hand, he clasped it desperately.

“The chances of us having such complications are unlikely,” Draco tried to reassure his fiancé.

“I won’t risk it, not if it’s you. If you want more children, I’ll carry them,” Harry offered. The thought of being pregnant absolutely terrified him in so many ways, but he’d do it for Draco.

“That’s one option,” Draco acknowledged. He couldn’t discount it without Harry turning his reasoning on him.

“You could also use a surrogate,” Lucius suggested, either unaware or unconcerned about risking some unknown person’s life if Harry’s worst fears came to pass.

“Yes. We have options, and we can figure it out when we’re ready,” Draco said. This time when he changed the subject, Lucius allowed it. Probably because he'd already made his point. Harry knew Draco did want more children, and Harry had to mentally prepare himself to give them to Draco without allowing Draco to take the health risks.

Draco and Narcissa eased the conversation into planning the wedding. It set the tone for how all of the wedding planning unfolded. Draco and Narcissa did the bulk of the work. Harry didn’t know how Draco managed on top of everything else he did. The only part Harry felt strongly about was insisting on a small and intimate ceremony. He didn’t want their wedding to be some media shitshow.

Draco also took into consideration things he knew Harry would like. He defended Ron and Hermione as Harry’s groomspeople. Lucius had complained that Weasleys would ruin the aesthetic, but Draco had merely rolled his eyes and told his father to get used to them because he would be interacting with the whole lot frequently from now on.

Occasionally they would ask Harry’s opinion between two options. He quickly learnt that if they hummed for a long time after Harry’s answered, it meant he picked the wrong one. When that happened, he’d quickly find a reason that the other option was good too. They’d praise him on his insight as if Harry really had been a part of the decision making. He didn’t mind though. The most important part would be marrying Draco.

He did appreciate that Narcissa gave Molly some areas that she could be involved in. Harry suspected they were carefully chosen to be things Narcissa didn’t care as much about, or she expected Molly’s decisions would be forced to compliment the rest of the wedding plans.

For all the months of planning, the day itself went by quickly. Harry stood where he was told to, spoke when he been prompted, and spent the day in awe that it was actually happening. He said as much in his vows. He also reiterated that he feared he’s not worthy of Draco but will spend the rest of his life trying to be. Draco’s vows centered on acceptance and growing into better versions of themselves through mutual support. He finished off with “I’d gladly merge our souls into one, as you already complete me in every other sense.” It probably sounded like sentimental drivel to everyone else, but Harry saw the promise for what it was. Draco’s research in soul magic revealed ways to connect two souls. He would happily join Harry in a very different kind of marriage ceremony if asked. Should Harry ever get tired to feeling incomplete without his soul after the horcrux, Draco would share his to fill in all the empty spaces in Harry. Harry would never ask him to give such an important piece of himself, but it meant everything to know that Draco would.

Harry spent most of the reception moving from guest to guest and thanking them for attending. He barely got to eat any of the food Draco had painstakingly selected. Before he knew it, the night was over, and it sunk in that they were now Mr. and Mr. Malfoy-Potter.

Their honeymoon also served as a research trip. They had specifically looked at countries that legally allowed the study of soul magic. Draco had been in contact with several specialists over the years, and several had invited him to visit. They planned to visit them all eventually, using family trips to avoid too many questions. Their honeymoon was the first such trip. They only booked a one-week trip. Neither of them wanted to leave James for longer than that. Draco had set aside three days dedicated to his research with a fourth as padding if needed. The first three days of their honeymoon were spent in bliss as they barely left the bed. Unfortunately Harry was bored the rest of the trip, and made a mental note to plan his own activities for future trips.

Harry and James moved into Malfoy Manner when they returned. Harry had thought it would be weird living with his in-laws, but Draco pointed out that the manor was huge, so they’d have their privacy. Harry had ultimately agreed because the manor was brighter and less stifling than Grimmauld Place. He hoped it would be a better environment for James.

The unexpected boon moving in with the Malfoy gave Harry was that he was able to start his auror training earlier than planned. Narcissa had insisted as she spent most days watching James anyway. Now that the boys were old enough to play together, Teddy and James insisted on seeing each other frequently. With Andromeda also there, Narcissa pointed out that there wasn’t a need for three adults to watch two children. Harry disagreed considering the mischief the two had started to cook up but ultimately relented once Draco agreed it would be a good time for Harry to start his career.

Draco second-guessed that decision each time Harry came home banged up. He added basic healing magic to his ever-growing field of studies. The only thing that prevented him from asking Harry to choose a safer career was seeing how happy it made his husband. That, and the fact that Harry had supported him through his studies. Even once he finished his first two masteries, Harry encouraged Draco to pursue another in potions, even though it would interfere with Draco’s attempt to settle the horcrux issue.

And it was still an issue. Harry was disappointed that James still looked like him as he aged. Harry was certain that if they’d been the same age, they could have passed for twins. He cursed the Dursleys for never taking his picture as a child, otherwise he’d have been able to prove this to his husband. Draco had tried to reassure him in multiple ways. He’d presented Harry with the results of a maternity potion to prove James was biologically Ginny’s son, but Harry had theorized that the horcrux couldn’t have created a new vessel from nothing but could possess a vessel too weak to throw it off. He also thought the horcrux might have done something to help create James, but he couldn’t explain how that was possible.

When Draco pointed out that James had many ‘Weasley’ habits, Harry figured it just added proof to the nurture side of the nature verses nurture debate. James merely mimicked what he saw repeatedly. Ron had complained on multiple occasions about Harry allowing the Malfoys to corrupt his nephew; that ‘conceited rich heir’ wasn’t as attractive to most people as Harry inexplicably found it. Harry explained that the Malfoys were more generous than Ron knew. They picked up Harry’s slack whenever he grew distant. If the price was James acting a little entitled, Harry would take it over the alternative. So, James displaying both Weasley and Malfoy behaviours, did nothing to convince Harry that James was his own person. After all, Harry had also picked up habits from both families too.

Draco strove to find a way to settle the matter. For him it honestly didn’t matter if James was Harry’s son, carrying his horcrux, or was the other half of Harry’s soul. Either way, Draco loved them both. But it weighed on Harry. So, Draco continued his research and tried to develop a plan for all of the possible outcomes. He was nervous when, after years of research, he thought he finally had a way to answer it.

“You know, I had an ulterior motive for suggesting James sleep over at Bill and Fleur’s,” Draco stated once he and Harry retired for the night. He hadn’t so much as suggested it as steered the conversation in that direction and let Bill think it was his idea to invite the children to sleep over and continue celebrating Victoire’s birthday with a morning brunch. Poor Fleur was going to have her hands full with her own children, James, Teddy, and the various other Weasley spawn old enough to participate.

“Oh? Was it for sexy times?” Harry asked.

“Not if you call it sexy times,” Draco snorted. He reconsidered as he watched his husband change into pajamas, but steeled his resolve. For better or worse, he was going to try to answer the horcrux conundrum.

“I created a spell,” he said.

“Oh?” Harry asked. Draco had created several spells over the last few years, and Harry never failed to be impressed by them. By Draco.

“Yes, it... it allows you to see a projection of someone’s soul,” Draco said. He saw Harry tense, but pressed on. “It’s like, well, have you ever seen a soul when a dementor pulls it out? It’s pretty small, surprisingly so. I had to figure out a way to make it bigger so that I could really examine it... and I finally figured it out...”

“And you want to use it on me and James?” Harry guessed.

“I figured we’d start with us,” Draco explained. “It’s still in an experimental phase. I’m sure it’s safe, even to use on children, but I can’t exactly ask other people to let me test it on their children. And we’d need that if we’re going to look at James’ soul. There’s still so much we don’t know. Like, do souls come into being fully formed, or is it something that grows with time? So, if we tested it on James, and his soul is about half the size of an adult’s, we won’t know if it’s because his soul is still growing or if it’s because he’s half of your fully developed soul. So really, it’s best not to start there. We’d need-”

“Draco, you’re babbling,” Harry cut in. He’d been able to follow Draco’s rushed explanation, but felt he should interrupt. His husband didn’t usually get flustered; not unless Harry did something to either anger, embarrass, or arouse him. So, seeing Draco nervously info dump everything on him made him uneasy.

“Right,” Draco said, and took a deep breath. He relaxed when Harry wrapped his arms around him. “Right. I thought I would show you mine first. I’m not exactly a saint. I’ve done things that, well, you know. Still, my soul should theoretically represent a normal, healthy adult’s soul.”

“So, I have something to compare mine to,” Harry realized.

“It might not be enough,” Draco warned. “Even if our souls are different, it might not be because of the horcrux. Perhaps souls are like fingerprints and everyone’s got a different one. We may need to ask others to participate in this experiment.”

“Who? I can’t ask our friends. And soul magic isn’t exactly legal, so you can’t set up a proper study,” Harry pointed out.

“Our next family trip,” Draco immediately suggested as he’d already considered it. “There are experts in countries that do allow soul magic that I could consult with. I’m sure they’d be willing to help.”

“Right...” Harry acknowledged Draco’s plan, but was worried about following through. He’d waited years to have proof of his greatest fear, but now that it might be within his reach, he was scared to find out.

“Ready?” Draco eventually asked when it became clear his husband would need prompting.

Harry nodded and stepped back from Draco. He held his breath as Draco positioned himself with plenty of space directly in front of him. For something that had taken years of study, the spell was rather simple.

“Vidanima maxima,” Draco said with only a minor flourish with his wand.

The space in front of him was immediately filled with a white light. It was bright enough that Harry had to give his eyes time to adjust before he saw anything besides _white_. When he could finally look at it directly, he noted that it was _not_ a solid white. There seemed to be minuscule transparent blank spaces throughout the mass, but these spaces were filled then emptied as the white parts seemed to move at a slow pace. The longer Harry looked, the more he began to think of it like steam rising from a cup of tea. Only instead of rising up, the more substantial parts circled around in a contained amount of space. Where these silvers overlapped and intermingled, they became more visible and gave off that white light effect.

“It’s beautiful,” Harry said with wonder. He raised a hand to touch it but felt nothing. He realized that had been foolish. Draco had not removed his soul, merely allowed it to be projected in front of him. Still, Harry would challenge anyone to see it and not want to touch it.

“It probably isn’t anything special,” Draco said.

“Shut up. It is. You’re beautiful,” Harry said. He skirted around the projection, so he could marvel at it from different angles. When he neared Draco, he crowded at his back, wrapped his arms around Draco’s stomach and watched the slow movements from over Draco’s shoulder. They stood there for several minutes and just watched the beautiful light. When Draco finally cancelled the spell, Harry couldn’t help but feel bereft.

“Are you ready?” Draco asked. He felt Harry tighten his hold on him for a moment before he let go.

“Yeah,” Harry said nervously, but when Draco moved away, he stood in Draco’s vacated spot and waited.

“Vidanima maxima,” Draco said from Harry’s side. He didn’t move to Harry’s previous spot as he suspected his husband would need him close by.

As before, there was a burst of light. But when Harry’s eyes adjusted, he saw a vastly different result. Draco’s soul, despite all the little bits that moved, had looked like one whole unit. It hadn’t exactly been spherical, but there was a sense it was trying to maintain a certain circular shape. Harry’s on the other hand was, for lack of a better word, patchy. There were some healthy-looking clumps of bright light that moved around each other smoothly, just like Draco’s had. Harry initially thought these patches were individual bits forced to share space, but that wasn’t quite right. He watched as thin strands from one of the patches moved and connected to another. Here the light moved slowly and thinned to the point it was almost invisible. It was strained, but the silvers of light were moving from one healthy point to another. Harry theorized that the thin spaces between the healthy portions must have been where Harry had cut up his soul to make the horcrux.

“I suppose we have our answer,” Harry said. When there was no immediate response, he glanced away from the atrocity before him to seek out his husband. Everything in him tensed when he saw the tears falling from Draco’s eyes. Somehow that hurt more than being confronted with his own mangled soul.

“Draco?” he whispered. He wondered if this was finally the moment Draco realized Harry wasn’t good enough for him. They had solid proof now.

“Oh, _Harry_ ,” Draco sounded devastated, but instead of marching out the door and out of Harry’s life, he blindly grasped for Harry’s hand, unable to look away from the display in front of them. “I knew... It makes sense you’d have some scars.”

“Scars?” Harry questioned and looked back towards his soul. He supposed calling the almost empty spaces scars were as close as they could get to explaining it. The thin strands moving from one section to another did seem to be trying to stitch itself back together.

Draco held his hand tightly as they quietly observed the magnified picture of Harry’s soul. Unlike the marvel Harry had felt when seeing Draco’s soul, Harry watched his with a heavy heart.

“At least this does answer our question,” Draco said softly.

“We already knew I was damaged,” Harry said.

“You’re not,” Draco snapped back. When Harry just raised an eyebrow in response, Draco sagged and sighed. “Alright, there is some... damage,” Draco flinched as if saying the word caused him physical pain, “but, you’re still whole.”

“What?” Harry asked. He wasn’t sure how he could be damaged and whole.

“Look,” Draco said and gestured towards Harry’s soul.

“I am looking. And it isn’t pretty,” Harry said.

“Don’t just focus on the... scars. Look at its size,” Draco directed. When Harry only frowned in response, Draco pointed out, “it’s the same size as mine was.”

That was true. It seemed to roughly occupy the same amount of space Draco’s had. Even if Harry added up all the thin blank spaces between the healthy spots, it wouldn’t take up half the space.

“So...”

“So, James can’t be your horcrux, if you still have your whole soul,” Draco said.

“But... how?” Harry asked, because it didn’t make sense. Even if James wasn’t his horcrux, how could his soul return to him? That didn’t happen when Voldemort’s horcruxes were destroyed.

“I’m not sure yet, but if you have your soul, then clearly James isn’t carrying it around,” Draco said.

“Unless... what if the horcrux doesn’t take half your soul like I thought. Maybe it just takes a small piece, like the size you’d get if you added up those scars,” Harry proposed.

“Dammit, Harry,” Draco swore, but he sounded more tired than upset. “Let me observe you for a couple of weeks. I can run a few tests, maybe find some more... evidence for you.”

“Alright,” Harry agreed.

Draco spent the next fortnight writing down his observations on Harry’s projected soul. Occasionally he would cast a spell on Harry and see if it reflected anything in his soul’s projection. Harry didn’t understand most of it, but he did help Draco detect strange aspects. The most notable one was a weird void near the top. At first it looked like another scar, but Harry noted that none of the light strands were making the jump from one healthy spot to the next. It was a real blank spot.

“I don’t understand why this spot is different,” Draco said in frustration after several of his tests yielded no conclusive answers.

“What if...”

“What?” Draco prompted.

“Well... I was a horcrux, right? What if that’s the spot Voldemort’s soul took up?” Harry asked. He’d stopped avoiding saying ‘Voldemort’ once the aurors started using it as a way to round up any stray supporters dumb enough to show up when his name was spoken.

“Perhaps,” Draco nodded. “If souls develop as we age like any other body part, then yours might have had to grow around the foreign substance. Even with it now gone, your soul stayed...”

“Misshapen?” Harry finished.

They still weren’t sure about how souls developed. Draco was reasonably certain the spell he created was safe to use on children, but just in case, he didn’t want to use it on James unless it became necessary. He hoped he could convince Harry that James wasn’t a horcrux without having to resort to it.

They had trouble finding definitive proof, but together they came up with possible theories. The one Draco thought the most likely was Harry, being the Master of Death, was given the option to come back after he’d died. However, because he had created a horcrux – which was still intact at the time of his death – his soul was divided and confused about where to go. One piece could not enter the ring, and the other could not leave and return to the body. Harry had been stuck until the two could reunite.

That only happened after Ginny had accidentally destroyed the ring with wild magic born from pain, fear, and love for her child. Harry still wasn’t sure how that was possible. Ginny was strong, but perhaps not basilisk venom or Fiendfyre strong. Draco, believing in the ultimate goodness of Harry, suggested that the horcrux sensed Ginny’s distress and tried to give her energy instead of taking it. This would have weakened the horcrux enough for Ginny to accidentally destroy it. Harry had no memories to back this up, but also acknowledged he would have done whatever he could to help Ginny and the baby if it had been within his power to do so.

Draco couldn’t account for the time between James’ birth and Harry waking up. His best guess was that the reunited pieces of his soul needed time to heal. He also couldn't explain why Harry had been functional with only half his soul before he died, but remained in a coma until his soul was haphazardly put back together.

“We may never know for sure,” Draco said one day while he and Harry cuddled on their bedroom floor with Harry’s soul projected above them. He’d run every test he could think of and had no conclusive answers. The next step would be to observe James, or to consult outside help but that might also mean letting them know what Harry had done.

“I know. It’s ok,” Harry tried to reassure.

“It isn’t,” Draco said softly. He grown accustomed to state of Harry’s soul, and it no longer caused him a visceral sort of pain to see the damage. There was still so much beauty in it. Harry, on the other hand, still struggled with it and the many questions left unanswered. “You need to believe it, for James’ sake if not your own.”

“I- what do you want to do next, then?” Harry asked.

“I think we need to look at James’ soul... and other children to compare,” Draco said. If he never managed to convince Harry to see himself in a good light, he could at least try to convince him James was his son and not something more sinister.

“Where are we going to find these children?” asked Harry.

“Some place where it’s legal to do soul magic,” Draco answered quickly. He’d have to jump through some hoops for any study that involved children, but it would be possible. He mentally ran through the experts he knew to figure out which country might be the best if he needed help with the data. “Perhaps we can schedule a family trip to Albania, Romania, or Bangladesh? Or if you don’t like those options, there have been a couple of interesting studies that recently came from Mozambique and Latvia... or perhaps Ca-”

“Draco,” Harry interrupted. “I’ll follow you wherever.”

“Don’t get sappy on me, Potter,” Draco snorted, but relaxed knowing Harry would allow him to pursue different avenues.

“It’s hard not to be when you’re doing all of this for me,” Harry said.

“For us,” Draco corrected. He may have started the research for Harry’s benefit, but now it impacted so many more. “For our family.”

“No matter what the results of your study are... I’ll keep putting you – our family – first,” Harry promised. He meant it to be reassuring, but Draco tensed against him.

“Then why?” he asked softly. “Why are you so resistant to the possibility that James is only your son? You say you want it to be true, but you won’t let yourself believe it.”

The room was quiet for a long time. Harry watched the more substantial parts of his soul sway before focusing on the strands that struggled to move through the space Harry had cut out.

“Because it would mean I wasted so much time,” Harry eventually answered. “I know I haven’t been a great father – no, I know you’ll say I’m not I’m not a terrible father, but not being the worst father doesn’t make me a good one, yeah? I’ve seen how everyone else is with him. I’m grateful for it, _so_ grateful, but it also makes it even more obvious how I’m... lacking. Hell, James is more likely to go to _your father_ for a hug than me. I know I’ve held back. I don’t deserve it, after all I’ve done. But if James isn’t a part of me, if he’s really just my son, then I’ve hurt him for nothing. I’ve let him down. I let _Ginny_ down too... I don’t want him to be my horcrux, but the alternative is just as damning.”

Draco ran his hand through Harry’s hair. “I know you won’t believe it, but it’s not as bad as you think. James is a happy child. He’s never once asked me why you don’t love him or anything like that. If you think you’re holding back affection, then don’t. Don’t wait until we know one way or the other. Regardless of what he is, or what you think you deserve, a child needs affection. When you see him tomorrow morning, just... give it. If you can’t give a hug, then try a compliment. Spend time with him. He’s around the age we can start him on flying. Not high, mind you, but we can see if he likes it... and when you’re able to... tell him you love him. I _know_ you do.”

Harry nodded. “I will. I’ll do better. With James, and any other children we have. If you still want them, that is.”

“Of course, I do. When you’re ready,” Draco reassured.

“You do?” Harry asked, genuinely surprised. “Even after seeing that,” he gestured up towards the projection of his soul. Despite every reassurance Draco had given him, Harry was certain Draco would eventually wise up. Or, if he insisted on staying with Harry, he may no longer think of Harry as a good choice to father children with.

“Yes. Now, stop trying to get rid of me,” Draco joked lightly.

“Never getting rid of you if you’re determined to stay,” Harry admitted. He watched his soul struggle to stay together. In some ways it was like their relationship. Harry clung to the most healthy thing in his life, determined to keep it together. It was a struggle only because he still didn’t feel worthy of it. And yet he was the luckiest asshole on the planet because Draco will wanted him despite everything. Some days Harry didn’t know what to do with that love; it always left him feeling breathless. As he’d done many times over the past few years, Harry vowed to be worthy of it.

He didn’t know what would happen when he inevitably ended up in purgatory’s train station again. He hoped he’d be able to board the train and go Heaven or Valhalla or whatever the _good_ plane of existence was really called. He wanted to be able to see Ginny again. He wanted to spend eternity with Draco, who was surely bound for there when he died. Harry doubted he was any more worthy of it than he was worthy of Draco’s love, but he’d take it if it was given to him. And if the best he could hope for was an eternity sitting on a bench with Voldemort’s baby soul piece in the in-between, then he’d work on building enough good memories to make up for the lack of true peace. He’d horde memories of Draco to keep him sane. Starting tomorrow, he’d treat James as his son and only his son. He’d show Draco the love he can offer their children should he trust Harry with giving him more. And some day, _soon_ , he will tell James he loves him with no hesitation or self-doubt muddying up the words. And perhaps, eventually, he could even say it to himself.

**END**

**Author's Note:**

> Happy-ish ending... Harry still has a boatload of self-esteem issues, but otherwise his life is great...? 
> 
> I left the steps to create a horcrux vague and ultimately unanswered. Whatever horrible thing(s) you imagined, just go with that. Whatever atrocity you’re picturing and thinking Harry would never do it, just remember that Harry was desperate and could somewhat hide behind Voldemort to get it done. It still messed him up though.
> 
> As for whether James is Harry’s son or horcrux... well, I’ve answered how I think things happened in the story, but left some uncertainty and ‘what ifs’ that you could probably make your preferred theory work. Not much is known about the soul. It took Draco years to develop that one spell. And even though he mentions the study of soul magic is legal in various other countries, it’s still pretty regulated. I imagine that only certain people are actually given permission to study it (the wealthy and those with connections being the most likely), or in some countries it’s possibly only permitted so that the politicians can accept money from corrupt budding dark lords. No shade thrown on any of the countries I did mention! Albania was chosen because Voldemort went there. Romania and Latvia were chosen because I like the way they’re pronounced (idk, they’re just fun to say, ok?). And Mozambique and Bangladesh were mentioned in a meeting at work recently so they were on my mind when writing this.
> 
> I don’t know if anyone has tried to create a spell, but it’s hard! Like most people who don’t know Latin, I turned to Google translate. I used a mashup of words instead of a full sentence because translating one way and then back gives you different meanings (ex: See your soul -> Videatur anima vestra -> See your life). Anyway, vidanima maxima is supposed to represent ‘see a magnified version of your soul’. Eh, close enough.


End file.
